


The Luck of a Clover

by Krisander



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Character Death, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gangs, Human Trafficking, LOTS of violence, Loophole, Multi, Petstuck, Swearing, Unwanted Free Ugly Troll, Violence, i swear its not as bad as it sounds, really cute fluff, there is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 10:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krisander/pseuds/Krisander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale of the misadventures of one very small young man and his very large heart. Told completely from Clover's point of view (and he is not the brightest bulb), so some parts may be a bit nonsensical. LOTS of people will die (mostly canonical deaths).</p><p>Inspired by Unwanted Free Ugly Troll by coldhope and Loophole by saccharineSylph.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Troll

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unwanted Free Ugly Troll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/477092) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



All you can think of is that it is cold. It is so very, very cold.

It takes several minutes for you to remember where you are; for some reason you do not want to open your eyes. You thought at first that perhaps you had wandered into the kitchen in your sleep again. You were sure that the others would scold you for standing in front of the open refrigerator, like they always do. But then you feel the pressure around you tighten and you remember that you are not back at the mansion anymore. You are outside.

You are outside in the middle of what is probably a blizzard of epic proportions, with one ratty blanket wrapped around your slender shoulders and a shelter made up of thin logs and some twine. Those things, and two trolls attempting to share what little body heat they have with you, are what are keeping you alive. For the time being, anyway.

Suddenly you realize that you really, really want to open your eyes. You want to see their faces again (one last time). How funny that your luck and your time would run out simultaneously. You release a small chuckle at that thought, but it turns into a hacking, retching sort of cough halfway through. This does, however, have the small bonus of causing your eyelids to suddenly fly open.

Not surprisingly, there is a face peering at your own with a vaguely concerned expression. It would be a handsome face, you think- provided that the one wearing it eventually got regular meals and filled out a little. At the moment, it was almost like looking at a skull. A skull with high cheekbones, a perfectly straight nose, and the most captivating eyes that ever existed on a person. You stare into those eyes far more often than you would like to admit, and far longer than you probably even realize.

Then your eyes are drifting shut again, and you just do not have the strength left to wrestle them open. You had hoped to see all of them one last time, but this particular one will have to do. After all, he is your reason for existing. He seemed to have always been there, whenever anything important happened. You had no doubt he would continue being there long after you were dead and gone.

* * * * *

The very first time you saw him, he was a gangly young troll made completely out of elbows and long, wavy horns, and you were still just a child. You sat on the knee of your companion (indeed, you were so tiny that you could use almost anything as a perch) and gaped openly at the troll. Coming from where you did, you had never seen one before and did not much expect to, no matter how good your luck was. You took in the gray skin, the yellow claws, and even the fangs without much surprise; but it was the horns that your eyes kept getting drawn back to.

They were rather long for someone so small, you had thought to yourself. If they had been straight instead of slightly wavy they would have been even longer. You remember comparing them to those of an antelope you had heard of (never seen), but somehow that did not sit right with you. You found them entrancing. Worse still were those purple-on-yellow eyes that drew you in and made you forget that you even had thoughts to have in the first place.

The giant you are seated on jiggled his knee to get your attention, “You never seen a troll before, kid?” You could not even bring yourself to answer him aloud, simply giving a small little shake of bewilderment.

“Well you’ll be seeing more of them,” he continued on. “Boss likes to keep them around as guard dogs. They’re excellent to have around if you need some extra muscle. He don’t look like much now, but he’ll fill out in time. We’ve got a cousin or brother or however the Hell that works of his. Growing up to be a huge motherfucker. A bit nasty, too. I wouldn’t let him catch you alone.”

“I’m too lucky for that,” you quipped, readjusting the purple bowler on your head so that it would slip across your other eye instead. It was the smallest headwear the entire group could find, and yet it was still too large for you. Perhaps one day you would do some filling out yourself and the thing would stay up.

“Right you are, kiddo,” he snorted in a somewhat amused way as he attempted to straighten your tie. “You look good in those duds.” You personally thought that the garish shade of green was somewhat painful to look at for long periods of time, but you had to admit that it made your ridiculously-red hair seem less so. More than one person had commented on your suit (most notably was the one who had scoffed at the little leprechaun sitting at his spot at the table), but that was the first time anyone had complemented it.

The tips of your ears were turning as red as your hair by the time you stubbornly averted your gaze. Immediately it was drawn back to the troll in question, although you were not sure that staring at him was any more advisable. Even though the man teased you more than you were admittedly comfortable with, he at least had already proven better company than the rest of the gang. There was only one other member you could manage spending large amounts of time with, and he was not one to talk much. (Well, then there was that guy who liked to talk too much, but you were not really sure if he was a member of the crew or not.)

Then the troll looked right at you and you found yourself frozen in a weird mixture of terror and fascination that did not bode well for your mental health. He waltzed straight up to the two of you, placed a quarter in your hand and then stepped back. You inspected the coin and were delighted to discover that both sides were heads. However, your grin faltered when you looked back up at his overly-serious face.

“Luck,” he carefully stated in a sort of lilting voice, “has motherfucking nothing to do with anything. You’re straight up made of miracles, lil’ bro.”

“Gamzee!” reprimanded the mammoth man. “Don’t scare the kid with your miracle bullshit. Go on, now. Shoo!” A hand that was almost as big as your torso waved dismissively at the troll. As he leisurely loped away, he hesitated briefly at the door to throw a glance over his shoulder at you.

You would have sworn that he was smirking.

* * * * *

It was some time later before you saw the troll again. You had learned that there were four other trolls on the grounds, but three of those were highly unadvisable to spend any time with- especially alone. So instead you would keep the friendly deaf troll company. She taught you how to sign fairly early on, and you quickly found that much preferable to her eardrum-shattering yelling. Between her and the more subdued of your peers (it was awkward to think of the older men like that), you never were very lonely. Of course, life was not completely sunshine and daisies for you. There were lots of issues.

Unfortunately, everyone in the group had some sort of addictive vice. The ones you were closer with had the least noticeable vices. Cans, for example, liked to drink. Luckily he was not a violent drunk, but he still would pass out on the couch after binge drinking about once a week. Your partner Quarters spent a little too much time and money at the slots. Of course, he seemed to always do better when he dragged you along, but most casinos had policies against underage customers. The Boss simply went into rages and destroyed things, often injuring anyone unlucky enough to be in the vicinity.

But it was Itchy who got you into the drugs. You could not even remember what he gave you or how exactly it started. Then one day you knew why he was always so twitchy and scratching at himself all the time because you were suddenly living it. And as much as you hated every second of losing control, you dreaded the detoxing and painful need more. Scoring the next hit had become your life, and more than one member had taken note of your sudden change in demeanor. Only none of them could or would do anything about it unless the Boss himself ordered them to.

Realistically you knew that you had to stop. Even Meulin started to get overbearingly concerned and nosy about it. The problem was that you just could not help yourself. Between Itchy and Damara, you always found more drugs being pushed at you. Then one day you were sure that your luck was finally running out. By the time Gamzee found you again, you were strung out and barely breathing.

There was a lot of slipping in and out of consciousness on your part, but one thing you would never be able to forget was the infuriated look on his face. You were certain that if the overdose did not kill you, he would. Surprisingly enough, he never raised his hand towards you. Instead, he locked you in one of the interrogation rooms and cared for you as the drugs were slowly purged from your system. He brought food and water, and carefully sponged away the accumulated sweat and grime from your useless thrashing about. Anytime he could not make it, his larger copy, Kurloz, was there with his creepy smile and tongue-less mouth.

It took the better part of a month for the crew to wonder where exactly you had run off to and then find you. Although they pestered and prodded, you never did say who had locked you into the room or had been taking care of you. Instead, you simply requested a hot bath and some real food, insisting that you had never been in any real danger. You were simply too lucky for anything permanently bad to happen to you.

Within three weeks you were back on the drugs.


	2. The Veterinarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the references begin.

With drugs being the first, the second of your bad habits was your inability to suppress giggling when nervous. What had started off as a little quirk of your personality became a federal issue anytime the Boss got pissed beyond all reason (which was fairly common). Luckily your small stature worked in your favor, since most things thrown at you ricocheted harmlessly off the wall or floor. On occasion even you would get struck, but it was never anything more serious than some bruises and scrapes.

After a particularly nasty bump above one eye swelled to the size of a goose egg, you were declared to have a concussion, ordered to take some pain killers, and literally shoved behind anything conveniently large enough to hide you whenever the Boss walked by. At some point it was made known that you were in the doghouse, which literally meant that if you wanted to survive the night you had better be spending it with the trolls. Which would have been fine, had Meulin not happened to be out on an errand for the next three days or so.

By the time you had tiptoed out to the smaller building (it was almost a shed, really) that housed the trolls you had decided to just try to sneak into Meulin’s kennel and sleep alone. It was much, much preferable to spending a sleepless night with Damara or her even creepier older version. What you had not expected was to find the stall already occupied. You were backpedaling wildly when one huge hand closed around your calf.

With a single yank (and one rather undignified yelp on your half), your feet were pulled out from under you. As you stammered out an apology of some sort, a face loomed into view out of the darkness. The purple eyes were familiar to you, as were the long, slightly crooked nose and high cheekbones. He yawned widely, revealing the severed stump of his tongue.

“H-hi, Kurloz,” you stammered. “Sorry about barging in like this, but Boss is on a rampage again. Hee, hee, hee. Um, not that that’s funny! Well, it kinda is funny, because he clocked me with a clock. Hee, hee. Just, it’s not so funny that I should be laughing, hee, but I just can’t help it sometimes.”

With a growl, he silenced you and began to sign. He asked what you were doing in Meulin’s kennel. At least, you were fairly sure that the sign of an ‘m’ like a cat’s paw waving was meant to signify the troll in question.

“Oh! That’s because Meulin always lets me crash here for the night whenever I’m in the doghouse. Hee. Not that you guys are dogs! Hee, hee!” for some reason, you found yourself unable to shut up. “Far from it! I think you guys, hee, are probably smarter than half the gang. Hee, hee. Oh, don’t tell them that, though! Eggs and Biscuits might get, you know, pretty mad about that. Hee, hee, hee.”

He blinked twice, as if trying to clear his mind and figure out whether or not you were joking with him, before he broke into a wide, toothy grin. He assured you that you were ‘pretty okay for one of them’ and patted your head (your hat had fallen off sometime- probably when he had swept you off your feet). Then he was turning around and making himself comfortable in the little nest of blankets and straw he had created.

You had shuffled around for a few minutes until you were able to locate your hat and jam it onto your head. Then you found a ratty blanket and curled up the best you could with the mammoth troll taking up most of the room. You slept the whole night through, and when you awoke it was with Gamzee cuddling up with you in the frigid morning air. From then on, anytime you were in the doghouse you would stay in Gamzee and Kurloz’s shared stall.

Meulin never did return.

* * * * *

Despite never talking much, it was Quarters who taught you how to read. He would patiently wait for you to settle down behind a book, stilling the pages when necessary, and then gesture for you to begin. Every time you made a mistake, he would slap the back of your head until you got the word right. Soon you fell into the habit of reading the morning paper to him as he and Matchsticks made breakfast for whoever dragged themselves out of bed early enough.

These were the sorts of memories that stuck with you, even through the haze of drugs and general ineptitude. You never were late for breakfast, and you always remembered to go fetch the newspaper from the gate. Honestly that was the furthest you had ever been from the mansion on your own. You were ‘too valuable’ to be unattended past the driveway; meaning you always had some muscle with you.

It was on a routine errand that you got to tag along with that you finally decided that you did indeed not like that man who talked too much and yet was not really a part of the crew. Quarters and Matchsticks had told you that the trolls needed their annual checkup at the veterinarian’s place. Of course, it would not do for anyone to catch all of you in a regular office, so you were off to make a house call. You rather wished you could stay behind, but no one was asking your opinion.

The whole ride there you played with the controls on the window and giggled as the wind whipped Gamzee and Kurloz’s hair into even more unmanageable messes than usual. You only stopped when Damara snapped out a phrase that sounded threatening enough to make you freeze in genuine concern. Even as you rolled your window back up and quickly placed your hands on your lap, you could see Kurloz giving the smaller troll a wicked sneer. Gamzee covertly patted your hand as the van pulled into the vet’s driveway.

His name was Scratch. Doc Scratch, as he liked to be called. You found his pasty face and fairly greasy personality to be most unsettling to your stomach. From what you had heard, he had been the original owner of the two rustblood females, but had used them as payment to the Boss or something. The point being that he was the go-to guy for trolls and you absolutely wanted nothing to do with him (anyone who could survive being alone with Damara for more than an hour made it to the top of your ‘do not mess with’ list).

“Ah, so good to see you all,” the man himself answered the door. “Greetings! Do come in, do come in! Would you gentlemen like anything to drink? Perhaps something a little less strong for Clover? I do pride myself on being a most excellent host.”

Stitch waved him off gruffly, “Not here for pleasantries, Doc.”

“Of course,” he nodded amicably. “How _is_ young Clover doing?”

“As dandy as can be,” you replied tersely, holding back a nervous giggle.

“I’ve heard from Matchsticks here that you are learning to read,” pressed the man. “Would you care to demonstrate?” With no help coming from either of the thugs, you were forced to sit on his knee and read aloud a few pages of a book for him. It had large-print words and lots of pictures in it, the story being something about a lost sheep.

“Doc, we really don’t have the time to indulge your pedophilic tendencies,” interrupted Stitch after you had gotten to the end of the book.

“That would be hard,” he had set you back down and ruffled your hair, “as I have no such tendencies. My love of children is purely from the standpoint of teaching and nurturing the next generation. They are the future, gentlemen.” One look at the faces of those present showed that not a single one believed him. There was a dark flash in Gamzee’s eye the others did not see; one that made your blood run cold. 

* * * * *

An hour later you were exploring the grounds when suddenly there was a frightful hiss and something collided with you. You tumbled head over heels a couple times before sliding to a halt in an undignified heap. As soon as the sharp, thin edge of something was at your throat, you ceased moving completely.

“Well, well, well,” a voice purred in your ear. “What have we here? A trespasser?”

“Vriska,” moaned another voice from nearby, and a young troll with huge bullhorns stepped into view. “I, uh, don’t think that you should be doing th-that’s a person!”

“Oh, I’m so scared,” mocked the first voice. “What is he going to do? Besides, a trespasser is a trespasser.”

“There ain’t no motherfucking trespassers here, sister,” the lilting voice of your own gray-skinned comrade announced. “We be all getting our visit on with the doctor and then I got told to go find my tiny pal there. And here he be.”

“Yes,” the claws retracted a bit, “‘here he be.’ So you want me to just hand him over?”

“Yes,” replied Gamzee. “He is mine, after all. So you can all up and get your grubby mitts off him now.”

“Yours?” finally the claws, and the weight on your back, were removed completely. You stood up to eye the troll in question wearily, brushing dust off of your ridiculous green suit (Stitch was going to throw a fit over those tears). She was young, probably about the same age as your lanky counterpart, but her mismatched horns were much smaller. Her clothes were tattered and worn and one of her eyes looked like the pupil had been fractured, giving her an overall feral appearance. You could see her sizing you up and immediately felt the lack of sturdiness your small frame provided.

“So this is your owner?” she finally snorted. “He sure doesn’t look like much.”

“Clover is not my owner,” grinned the antelope-horned troll. “In fact, he don’t be the owner of anyone at all. But he is mine and I want him back.”

“He has, uh, one of those green suits, Vriska,” the bullhorn troll spoke up. “We are, maybe, not supposed to mess with them. Anyway, he’s a human.”

You gave yourself one final dusting as you crossed over to Gamzee’s side, “Humans and trolls are the exactly the same. There’s no real difference.” His face broke into a serene smile at that statement, and he carefully took hold of your wrist.

“Of course there is a difference,” sneered the female troll. “Trolls are property that have owners and are bought and sold.”

“Well then my little buddy here is a troll,” your protector replied as he began to pull you back towards the building, “because he got bought just the same as you and me.”


	3. A Birthday Party

As much as you hated all the moping around in the mansion you normally did, it was highly preferable to your actual job. You had been purchased specifically to provide companionship and entertainment to the Boss’s two children, and while one of them was quite pleasant, her twin brother was not. Caliborn was, quite frankly, the bane of your existence.

He was spoiled, selfish, rude, and cruel. Something was not quite right with the kid, but no one could say anything about it. And the games he played…well, they never ended well for anyone else involved. Sadly, more often than not you were the ‘anyone else involved.’ Occasionally Calliope would be able to reign in her brother’s more dubious schemes, but she could not protect you constantly. If you were honest about it, you counted yourself lucky that you had survived all of his ideas thus far.

“Clover,” he would singsong, “I want to play a game.”

“What kind of game, hee hee, would you want to play?” you would reply. And then he would ridicule your giggling and outline his latest game, which he would always win. (You had learned the hard way that it was best to let him win.) Eventually you would be released to go lick your wounds because you had ‘ceased being fun to play with.’ All that was left was avoiding him as much as possible until the next inevitable encounter.

And that was pretty much the cycle of your life, over and over again. Occasionally you would get to go on excursions outside of the mansion with the others, but most of the time you remained behind. Everyone was basically forced to drop what they were doing whenever Caliborn demanded it, with the exception of already having orders. You just happened to be the lucky one who never had any outstanding orders to fulfill.

“Oh, Clover,” he rattled the chess board, making the pieces slide. “Are you even paying attention to the game? See, this is exactly why I told sister dear that it would be a fucking waste of time to try to teach you this particular game. Does it have too many rules for you? Or is it because it’s boring? Come on, _chum_. You can tell me.”

“Hee, hee, hee,” you quickly moved a knight in the L-pattern you found so intriguing. “I can remember them! Hee! Check!” You realized far too late that you had made a terrible mistake. The first rule of any game was that Caliborn had to win.

His face slowly devolved into a ferocious glare, teeth gnashing as he struggled to find a way out of his current predicament. You glanced nervously back down at the board yourself, certain that he would have to see the bishop in place to take out your knight. After long, agonizing seconds passed, he still was blind with rage. But you were always too lucky for anything permanently bad to happen to you.

“Oops!” you moved to correct a piece. “Your queen there slipped when you jiggled the board, heeheehee! All fixed!” You saw his face slowly relax as he saw the way out.

“Ha!” he drove his queen forward, sending your poor knight flying of the board to clatter into a wall somewhere. “Good thing you saw that, since you didn’t call checkmate. That would have been breaking the rules.” The way he carefully enunciated the last sentence sent chills up your spine. Rule breaking was the one thing Caliborn absolutely would not stand for. “Check! Your move, wanker!”

A quick glance told you that your bishop needed to be sacrificed for the greater good, probably to join your knight. Still, experience had taught you that taking out his queen was highly undesirable. It would be best to simply move your king out of the way and let him edge you into a checkmate. He rarely caught you letting him win, after all. Especially when all the pieces were crammed into one corner of the board like that.

You made your decision and move your king over, getting out of the check while still letting Caliborn keep his queen, “Your move.”

“Stupid!” he taunted, slamming his queen into the newly vacated space. “Fucking moron! Checkmate! Man, you absolutely suck at this game! You can never take my king!”

“You are simply the best there is,” you admitted, giggling a bit.

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it!” he snarled. “Hurry up and set up the board again! I want to practice enough so I can finally beat that bitch at her favorite game!”

“Yes, sir!” you tottered off the chair to go scrounge up the pieces that your overzealous opponent had sent flying. Although you had managed to rescue all the pawns, two bishops, and a castle, you could not find the knight that you had foolishly moved. Finally realizing that you were going to have to go back empty handed, you turned around to run smack into someone.

“Whoa there, little motherfucker,” a gray hand steadied you. “What’s the rushing around all for?”

“You,” growled the red-eyed teenager. “Go the fuck away, you creepy-ass clown. No one wants you around. Clover and I are going to play another game.”

“Sorry, my man, but I’m all up and supposed to be delivering this motherfucker downstairs,” Gamzee refuses to release your shoulder. You noticed that he was quite a bit taller than you now; you probably only came up to his chin.

“Ugh!” Caliborn threw the chessboard off the table, sending the remaining pieces flying in every direction. “You bastards always have to ruin my fun! Now what am I supposed to do?”

“You could try drawing some more of those miraculous pictures of yours,” suggested the troll blandly. “Or maybe your sis has some more stuff all formatted and colored for your ocularglobes to read.”

The face the boy made in response was rather grotesque, “I’d rather hang myself by my own entrails than read any more of that slop! Who the Hell talks that much? Fine, get out of my sight! I’ll just go get my fucking tablet and draw some steamy illustrations.”

Then Gamzee began pulling you along by your wrist as quickly as you could stumble behind him. When he finally led you to the empty kitchen, you glanced around with some confusion. There was no one to be seen in the vicinity, and it was highly unlikely that you would be called away from the task of tending to Caliborn to simply do the dishes. When you turned to face the wavy-horned troll, he held a finger up to his lips.

“Shhh,” he grinned, holding out the missing white knight in his other hand. You spent the rest of the day helping him do his chores in exchange for rescuing you.

* * * * *

“What on Earth are you doing out here?” a voice sounded nearby, startling you out of your dozing. Sitting up proved easy, but the sun blinded you the moment your eyelids creaked open. When your eyes adjusted to the light streaming in through the door, you saw none other than the only female member of the crew.

“Snowman!” you happily grinned at her. She was always so polite and friendly to you and Calliope that you automatically associated her with good things, despite the fact you had heard she was dating Doc Scratch. Beside you Gamzee had grumbled about the wake-up call and stiffly begun to stretch.

“Does English know you are out here, Clover?” she raised a single eyebrow.

“I sure hope so!” you blinked. “I’m in the doghouse. Hee, hee!” You clapped your hands over your mouth to silence the nervous laughter bubbling up.

Luckily Snowman knew about your unfortunate habit and was kind enough to overlook it. Her eyes roved the stall, briefly resting on Gamzee and the still-sleeping form of Kurloz in the background, “So I see. Is this a common occurrence?”

“Uh…” was your reply.

“Little motherfucker comes and stays with us every couple of days or so,” the troll beside you helpfully supplied. “Anytime trouble finds him.”

Her eyes narrowed immediately, “I see. Clover, come with me. Gamzee, I have some treats for you and the others in my car. You can go fetch them after you have woken the rest of the trolls up. Share them equally, or you won’t be getting any more.” Both of you rattled off a ‘yes, ma’am!’ before scurrying to do what you were told.

Despite the way she sauntered with those hips, you had to trot to keep up with her. She walked straight into the mansion and up the stairs, passing several of the gang members without so much as glancing at them. By the time you realized where the two of you were going, she was already barging into the Boss’s office as if she owned the place.

“English!” she snapped, pressing the disconnect button on the phone. “We need to talk.”

“Miss Black, that was a very important phone call,” the Boss slowly puts the receiver back in the cradle. You thanked every God you could think of that he seemed to be having one of his good days, because otherwise he would probably have gutted you both instantly.

“You can call them back,” she rolled her eyes. “Is it true that you have been routinely sending a _child_ to sleep out in the shed? You do realize that the temperature drops to freezing overnight now, don’t you?”

“He seems perfectly fine to me.” As soon as you felt his gaze on you, you noticed that you could not even look in his direction. Snowman or not, you were the one who was going to be paying for this interruption, and both of you knew it. You shuddered to think about what punishment he was likely to dole out.

“Luckily it seems your trolls took pity on him and allowed him to bunk with them, or I am sure he would be frozen solid. English, I do not presume to tell you how to run things, but try to remember that the boy is still a minor. Besides, Calliope and Caliborn would be distraught if anything happened to their playmate.”

“That would be most…unfortunate,” he agreed. After that you were dismissed, and you were intelligent enough to flee to the basement of the mansion in the vague hopes that it would forestall what was coming. Strangely enough, Kurloz was the one who found you first. He sat down on the wine barrel next to yours and silently fed you little pieces of fruit candy, one by one, until Stitch found you.

* * * * *

For a few long moments you simply stood and stared at everything before you. There were balloons floating all about the room in lazy circles, and streamers taped to anything that did not move after a few moments (including Doze, who was asleep in a nearby chair). Matchsticks had even baked a cake and lit the green candles. You had seen this before on Calliope and Caliborn’s birthday, but those times it had been the whole mansion decked out and rooms filled with colorfully-wrapped presents.

“Kid,” grouched Fin, “you are supposed to say something after we all jump out and yell surprise. I mean, I’m pretty sure that’s how it works.”

“Heh,” you gave a weak snigger. “Um, you guys really, really surprised me?”

“It’s your birthday,” Crowbar helpfully supplied. “Welcome to the world of adults, Kiddo. Honestly, though, I voted on waiting until you turned twenty-one. Then we could have had a real party.”

“Birthday!” yelled Eggs. “Now we can eat the cake, right?” Biscuits immediately tried to slide the whole thing his way, resulting in a slap fight over the pastry.

“Slow down there!” warned Cans as he rescued the cake from the idiot twins. “Don’t you two morons know anything? This is a birthday cake; it has special instructions. Clover has to have the first bite.”

“Wait, don’t we do presents first?” another man blinked owlishly.

“Presents can wait, Die,” answered Crowbar. “I don’t think we can keep the cake around much longer.” He gestured to the oldest member attempting to reign in the rowdy duo; Stitch had his hands full just trying to keep them from clobbering each other. Without a word, Quarters grabbed a fork from the table, jabbed some cake onto it, and then shoved it at your face. You quickly took the huge gob in one bite, successfully ending the argument.

You had never had a birthday party before. What shocked you the most was that there actually were presents for you. Quarters had supplied some rare and interesting coins for you to start your own collection. There were some tattered books, a brand new deck of playing cards, and a bunch of the guys chipped in to get you a new purple bowler that actually fit. Best of all, you got a lovely brass pocket watch from Cans.

You thanked every single one of them for the presents and proceeded to help Matchsticks make another cake since Biscuits and Eggs destroyed the first one. For the rest of the day you kept opening up your little pocket watch to check the time, polishing the face of the clock. And later when Itchy offered you an extra sweet deal on his new goods, you turned him down.


	4. Fingerpainting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more references to loophole. there will be quite a bit of that for awhile. explanation for the rest of this chapter:: i needed fluff. lots of fluff. 
> 
> i like to think i succeeded.

"What's the matter, Clover?" sneered the red-eyed boy. "I thought you were supposed to be the luckiest of the bunch. Don't tell me you're starting to chicken out."

"Caliborn!" his smaller sister tried to snatch the gun from his hands, failing miserably. "You mustn’t! Don’t hurt him!”

"Where's the harm in having a little fun?” he backhanded her off of him. “It he’s really as lucky as he says he is, then nothing will happen. Right, midget?”

“What’s this? Hee hee! You think you can shoot me? I am so lucky the gun will probably jam or something predictable like that. Nice try though!” you bluffed, pumped full of adrenaline (and maybe some PCP) and ready to go.

“That’s what I like to see,” smirked Caliborn as he took aim, “unflinching stupidity in the face of peril. We’ll make a man out of you yet.” Then there was a small click. He frowned, pulling the trigger again. Click. A snarl began to rip from his throat. Click, click, click, click!

“Looks like another motherfucking miracle,” Gamzee scratches his chin thoughtfully. You were not entirely sure when he had appeared on the scene, but you did recall him egging on the teenager with the fucking rifle set on automatic. You remind yourself to scold him later (not that it would do any good).

“Oh come on!” Caliborn threw down the gun, causing the magazine to pop out. “You had to have fucking cheated somehow! There’s no way this asshole is that lucky!”

“A deal is a deal, brother,” sniffed Calliope. “Clover beat your ridiculous game fair and square. Now he’s mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. You get to have him for a whole fucking week. Just don’t spoil him rotten, because after that I’ll have made a whole new batch of games for us to play.” Calliope did not even stay to hear what else her brother had to say. She had already grabbed onto your hand by that point, leading you from one of the many common areas to the upper levels of the mansion.

Before you knew it, you were standing in her room. You could count the number of times you had even glimpsed the interior of her room on one hand, and yet it seemed that everything was exactly the way it had been before. There were posters of movies and books on the wall, stuffed animals and novels vying for space on the shelves. Even her princess-style canopy bed was still covered by the enormous pink and yellow quilt. While you stared in awe at your surroundings, she had retrieved a box wrapped in bright green paper. Uncharacteristically shy, she handed it to you and started to mumble.

“I only just discovered that it was your birthday recently, and I thought that it was most remiss that my brother and I had never gotten you any presents. I do hope you will accept my most sincere apologies and forgive us.”

“You…got me a present?” you blinked, too stun to even giggle.

“Of-of course!” she stammered. “Do open it! I will even show you how to use it.”

You tore the wrapping from the box, fumbling for a bit before you finally managed to open it. Inside was a small laptop, also the same blinding shade of green as almost everything the gang owned. Within an hour you had learned how to peruse the Internet, despite your inability to type with more than two fingers. You spent that entire week learning how to broaden your horizons, being sure to show your two troll friends everything you had discovered.

* * * * *

“Did you hear about Doc?” one man leaned over to conspiratorially whisper with his neighbor during breakfast one morning.

“What about him?” frowned the man with the green top hat.

“He’s in the slammer,” Fin smirked.

“I heard he got himself arrested for running a troll fighting ring,” Crowbar added from his seat across the table.

“Serves him right,” Cans finally plopped a large stack of pancakes on the table. “He lost all of his trolls, too.” You had briefly thought about asking after the little girl who had knocked you over, but determined you really did not want to know the answer.

“So does Boss want us to go bail him out?” Die adjusted his tall hat.

“We’ve been expressly ordered to not do a damn thing,” Matchsticks waved a spatula from the kitchen. “Doc is on his own this time.”

“No way!” exclaimed Itchy, already hopped up on an entire pot of coffee. “We always get called out whenever Doc has a problem. What’s going on?”

There was a very long pause before Stitch cleared his throat, “He offed Miss Black.”

“Snowman?” you had asked, bewildered as to how such a thing could happen.

“Fucking Hell…” trailed off Fin.

Everyone sat in stunned silence. Although Doctor Scratch never had been an official part of the gang, he still worked really closely with the Boss and remained in his good graces. For him to have killed Snowman, the wealthy heiress who was more a superior than a peer, was entirely unbelievable. Plus, they had been dating for quite some time.

“Usually when one of the gang is killed we are allowed revenge,” slowly worked out Crowbar. “I don’t know about you guys, but I want to make him pay.”

“We were ordered to do nothing,” repeated the man with the ridged brow as he brought a pan of bacon to the table. “We aren’t going to bail Doc out and we aren’t going to kill him. For now Boss just wants us to leave him be and see what happens.”

“Somehow I doubt he’ll get any jail time from the whole thing,” growled Fin. You could not help but silently agree.

* * * * *

You were enjoying one of your few breaks from Caliborn (on a rare trip with his father ‘to learn the family business’) by watching movies with his twin sister. Well, to be fair, you were attempting to watch a movie with her, but she was paying more attention to the ever-present ping of Pesterchum. Having literally only you and her brother to interact with, Calliope had grown fonder and fonder of spending time in online chat rooms. Honestly you did not blame her for wanting some new friends, since neither of you boys were particularly good company.

Finally she decided to ask for advice, “Clover, have you ever met anyone online?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “I spend most of my time on the laptop trying to learn new things. There is really so much information out there! Hee hee!”

She had smiled fondly at that, “Yes there is indeed a lot of knowledge to be had. But do you not think that knowing some other people your age would not be nice? Besides Caliborn and myself, I mean.”

You picked at the hem of your sleeve for a moment, “I think about it sometimes, but I don’t think I could lie to people. After a while, they always ask questions- things I can’t really answer. Besides, I don’t have just you and Cal. Gamz and Loz keep me company, too.”

“They do? Normally they do not associate with anyone unless they have to,” she seemed surprised and… concerned. “Not that I’m not glad you consider them friends, but, Clover, they are trolls…most people consider them pets.”

You wrinkled your nose, “What, like a cat or something? That…that’s just…”

“That is how things are, Clover,” she gently explained. “As far as the government, and indeed most of the world, is concerned, they are just like cats.”

“But…they are people, aren’t they?” you implored. “I mean…they talk and think and dream like us. What’s the difference?” You stared into her green eyes, and noted with some alarm that they were shining brightly with tears.

She sniffed for a moment before smiling brightly, “You know, there’s not really any difference at all. And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Here, I have some sites that you should see.”

* * * * *

A harsh tapping noise startled you from your contemplative examination of your latest masterpiece. You had whirled around, expecting Caliborn to berate you for making off with his art supplies (even though they belonged to his sister); instead there was a giant horned figure standing in the doorway. After glancing over you, Kurloz ambled over to plop down on the floor next to you. He quirked an eyebrow just so, giving you a wordless question.

“I’m painting,” you explained, showing him your newest creation. “Finger-painting, technically. Heh. Couldn’t find the brushes.”

Eying your landscape critically, he reached out a hand and signed ‘yellow.’ It took a moment for it to click, but then you were scrambling to open the bottle he had requested. You upended it and squeezed out a little onto his first two fingers, watching carefully as he added a sun to your sky. A circle was filled in, and even the little lines emanating from it to indicate the rays.

“Oh! That’s pretty good!” you had smiled up at him. “Do you want to stay here and paint with me for a little while?” Nodding and taking a blank sheet of paper, he smeared the extra yellow paint on his trousers without even blinking.

“Kurloz! You’re going to make Stitch mad again,” you griped, suddenly casting about. “Don’t wipe your hands on your clothes. I have towels around here somewhere.” By the time you had whirled back to face him with a particularly color-smeared towel, he was staring at you strangely. You did not like the struggle you saw in his features.

“Loz?”

A massive hand moved towards you, and you were not certain whether or not you were about to be struck. Mind racing, you thought that perhaps you had overstepped your bound by chiding him so freely. You screwed your eyelid shut at the last moment, thinking that for sure he was going to break your nose. Yet the touch on your nose was soft and fleeting- more of a rough swipe than a punch. You opened your eyes cautiously to see the gray face staring back at you with a bemused expression.

“Hee hee. Wh-what?” you stammered. He smirked and turned back to his painting, already starting a huge swath of bright green. Going cross-eyed, you managed to discover he had smeared what was left of the bright yellow on the end of your nose.

“Kurloz!” rubbing the paint off with the towel muffled your voice. He had the nerve to chuckle at you in breathy kind of hiccups. You realized that was the first time you had ever heard his laughter. Soon you were joining with him- not nervous giggles but actual mirth that started in your belly and warmed you all the way through. You had not laughed like that in the entire time you had been at the mansion.

When you jumped him with the blue paint, he was completely taken by surprise.


	5. The Raid

“Doc was just charged guilty,” you breathily announced, still in shock from the article you happened upon.

“What?” Matchsticks asked from the kitchen. “Don’t bother reading that bit aloud; just tell us the reader’s digest version.”

You scanned the article quickly, “It looks like they charged him for second-degree murder for Snowman’s death, since he sicced a troll on her. They had a witness! Wh-what? Um, they called a troll as a witness. One of his trolls. But I thought you said that they…”

“No way,” Fin was suddenly snatching the newspaper from your hands. “Shit! They really did call a troll as a witness. She testified under oath and everything.”

“What was the prosecutor thinking?” groaned Trace. “What next? Calling a dog to the stand? This is completely ridiculous!”

“Well, there certainly hasn’t been precedent on that,” admitted Cans as he heaved his bulky form into the chair next to yours. “From what I understand from cases like this, most trolls don’t live to see the hearings.”

You flinched a bit, thinking of the implications behind such a simple statement. Surely the good Doctor could have paid someone to silence the troll, had he thought the poor thing had been any real threat. Then again, he was on his own from the moment Snowman’s was a corpse. It was hard to sway other thugs when you were on the bad side of someone like the Boss.

“Well, I don’t like it,” the man snarled from under his red hat. “Think about it. If they can take a fucking troll as a witness, what about ours?”

“Trace…” warned the goliath beside you.

“Hear me out! Those trolls are bred and raised killers. Now they have done some damn distasteful things under orders, but so have we. What’s to stop them from squealing?”

“They would never do anything like that,” countered Matchsticks. “This is their home and we are the only people they know. Besides, no one crosses the Boss and lives.”

“I still don’t like it,” muttered Trace.

“Neither do I,” Fin added. “The whole thing sounds fishy. A troll doesn’t even know what it means to be under oath. And couldn’t you just get it to parrot whatever you wanted it to once it was on the stand?”

“Oh, come on!” snapped Cans. “Our trolls are more intelligent than, say, Eggs and Biscuits. Do you really think the difference between the truth and a lie is all that complicated for them to get a grasp on?”

“Still, they are _pets_ ,” pointed out Stitch. “There lies the fundamental problem. Do they even have witness protection programs for pets? What are they going to do about their rights? After all, if they can testify that is placing them on par with people.”

“In what way aren’t they people?” Quarters slammed a mug down on the table, raising his voice rather uncharacteristically. “They live, they die, they follow orders! How is that different than any of us? That is exactly what I would like to hear right now!” In the pandemonium that followed, you were extremely glad to have found at least one of the crew members agreed with you.

Shortly after it was in a much smaller article that the good Doctor had been killed in jail, his head smashed in by another inmate. None of the group seemed surprised when you read it aloud to them, but the order had never been given. Fin suggested that a supporter must have taken him out to prevent him from squealing. Cans motioned that there were even criminals who believed in trolls having human rights. No one had anything helpful to add after that.

* * * * *

Slowly you began to notice things you rather wish you had not. Actually, you wished most of all that they never occurred in the first place. Most of the gang seemed highly suspicious of the trolls after learning of the new turn of events. They would cease talking when one entered the room, glaring until she or he left again. Occasionally you would catch one of them taking out their frustrations on the helpless individuals, knowing that their status would prevent their ‘pets’ from striking back or even defending themselves.

The time you caught Fin tripping Damara as she swept, you literally tackled the back of the man’s knees. He gave you a sound drubbing for it but could not get you to apologize. Later when the troll watched you struggle onto aching feet on legs made of jelly, she asked why you had stepped in. You told her that although she was creepy and often scared you senseless, she was still a girl and did not deserve to be treated like that. Then she had slapped you, screaming in broken English that she did not need your pity.

Later you asked Gamzee about her response, and he had given you a look that suggested you were as intelligent as a rock (or Eggs and Biscuits. Honestly it would be the same IQ.) Looking it up online opened up the complicated world of troll romance, leaving you with more questions than answers. Eventually Calliope managed to walk through most of it with you (she found the whole subject ‘intriguing’ and had written entire essays on it.) You then understood that so obviously standing up for Damara was some form of non-sexual-yet-romantic harassment, since that was what her moirail would do.

The next time she was harassed, you simply inserted yourself between her and Itchy, distracting the man completely by begging for something to take the edge off. She glared at you suspiciously, but slipped away as the man dug in his coat pockets. Afterwards you flushed the pills he gave you, feeling sick to your stomach. Four or five times you had rescued Gamzee by simply stating that Caliborn wanted him, causing the crew members to immediately back off.

Honestly Quarters and Cans were much more effective at warding away trouble than you were, but they had the downside of being large and easily spotted. If they did catch one of the others tormenting a troll, they usually beat the crap out of them. Normally they did not catch them. You did. You had the bonus of being very small and a non-threat, thus easily dismissible. As a result, you became the round-about protector of all the trolls.

The worst time was when you caught Fin and Trace cornering Kurloz in a remote part of the mansion. You had no idea what you were doing there, but seeing the identical smirks on their faces drove all thought from your head. Before either of them had even realized you were there, you had slammed into the taller man’s side and knocked him into the uglier one. All of you went tumbling to the ground in a mass of flailing limbs and loud swearing.

After a brief struggle, both of your arms were pinned above your head and you were literally lifted off the ground. Then Fin was growling, “Unbelievable! The little fucker broke my nose! Hold him still for me.” You saw the arm draw back, readying to slug you as hard as he could manage.

An ear-splitting roar caused you all to freeze in terror.

It had been a guttural, wild sort of noise. Not something any human vocal chord would be capable of making. Every hair on your body was standing on end as you turned to look at the troll you were attempting to defend. Every fang in his head was clearly visible, his lips stretched back into a soundless snarl. The dark gleam to his eyes was something you had only seen before on Gamzee, and it frightened you to no end. He had a ring of dark purple around one eye and you inwardly cursed yourself for not arriving sooner.

Instead of signing, he warily mouthed, ‘Put. Him. Down. Now.’

“Y-you don’t give orders!” Fin yelled. “You’re a troll! A fucking pet! You take orders!”

The giant fist (still too large for its owner, and showing there was still a growth spurt ahead of him) moved so quickly that you lost sight of it. Either you had been so hopped up on whatever the Hell you had in you that you hallucinated the whole fight, or Kurloz had moved so quickly that he was not even a blur. The next thing you knew, you were cradled in his arms as he scrounged in the first aid kit for bandages.

He patched you up quickly, the only real injury being the gash above one eyebrow. Then he had gathered you up into his lap, muscles as tense and quivering as a drawn bowstring. You had waffled for a few minutes, unsure of whether or not your next actions would get your neck snapped or not. Eventually you gave up on reason, simply patting the troll’s face and shooshing him. There was an immense shudder and a lengthy sigh before he turned to nudge your palm with his nose.

“Pale for you,” you whispered. You could see his eyes widen in shock, before rapidly filling with adoration that was almost painful to behold, and yet more beautiful than you could imagine.

Then he slurred back, “Paay foe ooh!” as carefully as he could manage, and your heart just about skipped a beat. Later you discovered that Kurloz had not spoken for over three years- since losing his tongue in some sort of accident. Even afterwards no one could get a peep out of him. It turned out that you were the only thing he decided to break his silence for.

* * * * *

When the end of your stay at the mansion finally came, it came like a tsunami hitting an unprotected beach. A rival gang known as the Midnight Crew burst into the mansion, quickly spreading out and causing mayhem. You were so drugged up at the time that you were not even sure what was going on. Fragments were all you had of the initial attack. You somehow missed a lot of the fray since you had been in the upper levels. All you knew is that it was horribly loud- gunfire and screaming creating an unholy cacophony that reverberated around your skull. What finally drove you to go downstairs was an explosion that rocked the entire building.

You found Itchy bleeding out on the stairs, but you did not have the presence of mind to do anything about it. You stood watching him for a moment before giving him your green coat to staunch the bleeding. He glubbed a bit at that, red bubbles frothing on his lips. Promising to try to find Stitch, you scrambled down the rest of the stairs. There was a slick pool of blood at the bottom that you slipped and fell into. Then you blacked out for a moment.

The next thing you knew, you were standing off to one side, watching as Eggs literally had his throat ripped out by a brute in a black suit. The man was almost as huge as Cans, and with blood gushing down his chin, he was certainly more intimidating. Without his backup, Biscuits attempted a hasty retreat and was quickly snuffed for his troubles. The whole thing seemed surreal to you, even as they turned their attention towards where you were standing. One of them strode forward and picked you up by your shirt collar, yelling about the combination to the safe.

Where exactly Cans came from you would never figure out (there was no entrance on that particular side of the room), but he literally knocked out the man with one punch. You saw him take out one more before he turned back towards you. One massive hand plucked you from the ground and tossed you into something oddly giving for a wall. There was more yelling and you realized that you should have slid down and hit the ground by then. The wall had grabbed you and started moving away from the fight.

By the time your head was clear enough to have any sort of thought process, Kurloz had transferred you to one bony shoulder. He loped along easily, his large strides quickly increasing the distance between you and the mansion. From what you could see, the two of you were in a forest of some kind. Something was very wrong. You were not allowed outside of the grounds, and there was no forest nearby.

"Aw, would you look who finally decided to motherfucking wake up," crooned a familiar voice from nearby. Gamzee swiftly fell into step behind his cousin so you could see him. "Morning, lil' bro. How be you feeling at this particular time?"

You were too tired to even chuckle, "Not so great, Gamz. Where are we?"

“No idea,” he shrugged, “but I know _what_ we are. We are motherfucking free.”

Somehow that sentence did not sound correct, “Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean exactly what I motherfucking said,” he gives you The Look that suggests he has no idea why he bothers talking to someone as stupid as you. “We are as free as the featherbeasts that fly through the sky. The black suits- they burned that wicked place of heresy to the ground. And even if there was something to return to, we ain’t ever going back. Right, Kurloz?”

There was a grumble of agreement from the mute, and a movement that was probably him nodding his head. Gamzee smiled wickedly, but there was something to that grin. It was feral, as usual, but also strangely unrestrained; it was as if you had never seen him truly smile with happiness before. Then you blacked out again, unable to remain conscious long enough to ask any questions.

* * * * *

The next time you came to, the trolls had set up a little camp in the forest, including a large pile of fallen leaves to sleep on. There was a small fire going and what looked to be a couple of rabbits roasting on a spit. As soon as you sat up, Kurloz started rubbing your face with a wet rag. When he pulled away you could see the rusty stains on the cloth. Luckily the blood did not belong to you. (Although the fact you were not sure whose blood it was slightly concerned you.)

Gamzee watched the whole thing with calculating eyes, “Brother, if that tiny motherfucker slows us down we are leaving him behind. I don’t care how useful a human is; if we get caught we are as good as dead and gone.”

In a flash, Kurloz had whirled around and begun signing to the smaller troll. You could not see what he was saying for the most part, but you knew it did not bode well for you. The ever-darkening face of the youngest was evidence enough of that.

“Look at him!” snarled Gamzee, gesturing to you. “He’s as high as a motherfucking cloud in the sky. We already tried to fix him once, brother.” Kurloz’s reply was especially wild; his gestures grew larger as he struggled to argue his point.

Purple eyes narrowed as the boy hissed, “You can’t be there all the time. If he is holding us back, I’ll slit the motherfucker’s throat myself. I already said we ain’t ever, ever going back to that motherfucking tomb for trolls. And I mean it.”

A chill raced up your spine as you realized that Gamzee was already trying to cut his losses. You realized that what he said was true. You were a druggie incapable of even walking more than short distances at the time, and even then you could never hope to keep up with the longer strides of the trolls. If they were on the run, you were nothing more than a hindrance. This time the giant seemed to have gotten himself under control, as he answered calmly with efficient movements.

“You have got to be joking!” was the venomous reply. “Fine! But you are the one who is going to motherfucking carry that dead weight. If that motherfucker is your moirail, then you are the one who is going to take care of him. And if you both fall behind, then I am leaving your motherfucking carcasses on your motherfucking own.”

Kurloz gave a small, serious nod before glancing over his shoulder back at you. His pupils were blown wide with adrenaline and you understood just how close you came to being dumped in the middle of nowhere to fend for yourself. Instead, you were going to be just fine (more or less). This time luck had nothing at all to do with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update!! classes are takin a huge chunk out of my writing time.


	6. The Kindness and Cruelty of Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clover is actually useful again, and things look much better and then much worse.

The first couple weeks of your journey were hazy in your mind. This time the detoxification was done on the run, and you were sure that you were going to die. _Everything_ hurt. Every little jolt from being carried went straight to the ache in your bones. The few times Kurloz attempted to get you to walk on your own, you had hunched after him muttering about needing a fix. Sometimes you would stumble and fall. Others you were unable to keep down even water. A lot of the time you were not even coherent.

The trolls were very careful to stay away from anywhere that looked inhabited. Seeing as none of you were in the best shape (tattered and dirty clothes, unkempt hair, and in your case an unhealthy sheen of sweat), this was probably for the best. The trolls would be mistaken for ferals, and you had no idea what anyone would think of you. Probably assume you were a runaway child off to join the circus or something.

Nevertheless, as time went by, you slowly got better. You survived the shakes, the aches, the depression and rages. Eventually your body’s chemical balance leveled out a bit, and you we able to function again. At least long enough to complete simple tasks such as fetching wood for the fire or refilling the canteens. To be honest, that was a lot better than you had been during most of your stay at the mansion. Thinking about the place you had lived a good portion of your life, you could not help but wonder about the people who had lived there with you. The next time you were all setting up camp, you brought up the subject.

You dumped your pitiful pile of branches next to where Kurloz was arranging logs, “What do you think happened to everyone? Back at the mansion, I mean.”

Rooting around in the backpack that looked suspiciously like Caliborn’s, Gamzee found the lighter and tossed it to you, “Most of them were motherfucking dead long before we hit the road. I was not even sorry to see Trace get shot full of holes. Not one motherfucking bit.”

After failing a few times to light the dry grass you were using as tinder, you moirail (it still felt surreal to call him that) took the lighter from you. You watched as he carefully started the fire, coaxing the flames into existence. That day there had been a noted lack of prey, and all you three had managed to snag was a lone squirrel and a few small fish from a nearby stream. Some part of you felt uneasy about the disappearance of the creatures.

“The cold days are coming,” noted the smaller troll. “We are gonna need more supplies than what we already got.”

You frowned, “How are we going to get supplies? You didn’t bring any money, did you?”

He stared at you for a few moments before looking up at the sky and shaking his head, “Mirthful messiahs give me strength.” His gaze returned to you, “Don’t you worry your precious little head about it. Your good buddy Gamzee will take care of everything. You just stay with your motherfucking moirail tomorrow, and I will be back before the sun sets.”

You opened your mouth to press the issue, but Kurloz papped your face until you gave up with a huff. As much as that suspiciously sounded like your youngest companion was going to be up to some distasteful business, there really was nothing you could have done about it. By the time you woke up in the morning, he had already left. You and Kurloz take the day off to bathe in the cold waters of the stream; you spent literally two hours combing through his hair with your fingers and untangling all of the knots.

Then faced with nothing to do but wait for Gamzee’s return, the two of you set about hunting and gathering (Kurloz doing the hunting, and you the gathering) to bolster your supplies. He managed to unearth a badger, and although you argued on its edibility, you could not deny that it was a rather impressive catch. On the other hand, there were very few plants left growing so late in the year. A shirt full of blackberries and a rather nasty assortment of scratches were all that you had to show for your efforts.

Your missing member returned at the same time as his brother finished butchering the badger, his arms heavily laden with cloth and bags. It appeared he had looted a second-hand store for clothing, even managing to find some children’s clothing so the sleeves and legs did not need to be cuffed (even if they hung off your frame strangely). There were also blankets, cans of soup, a sewing kit that you rather doubted any of you could properly use, a small cooking pot, and a few other trinkets designed to make life easier.

You all still ate badger and blackberries for dinner.

* * * * *

At a certain point, it became obvious that you had been carried far too often for far too long. The calluses on your soles were completely smoothed out, and your stamina had been reduced to probably a mile of quick jogging (keeping up with the loping strides of your friends was rather difficult). Although Gamzee usually made a snarky comment or two about your inability to keep pace with them, Kurloz was more than willing to tote you around. You would almost go as far as to say that he enjoyed carrying you along, either tucked up under one arm or seated on his broad shoulders.

You did not realize how thankful you would be of his assistance until there was one morning when the three of you woke up to half a foot of snow. And although you spent most of the morning trotting after them and marking the wonderful white blanket with footprints every which way, by noon it had melted into a freezing slush. Twice you had to be rescued from missteps, up to your knees in mud and unable to free yourself. Eventually your moirail just plucked you from the ground without breaking his stride.

You would have felt worse about it if Gamzee had not gotten himself into a mud hole up to his waist by wandering too closely to a lake. In the end, you were each tucked up under an arm as your resident giant forged ahead, heedless of all obstacles. You had thought that it must be nice to be so big, even if sometimes he had to duck under branches to keep his horns from thwacking into them. The two of you smaller people just watched the scenery slowly roll by in reverse, an odd sort of vertigo in your stomachs.

“Hey, Gamzee,” you poked his head, “Where exactly are we going?”

“We be going that-a-way,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction Kurloz was walking.

“Well I know that. I mean, where are we wanting to end up?” you rolled your eyes. A horrible thought occurred to you a moment later, “We do have a destination, don’t we? We aren’t just going to keep wandering around forever, right?”

“Sure we do,” purple eyes slid over to evaluate just how distressed you were by this internal revelation. “It’s called anywhere is motherfucking better than back there. Don’t worry about it, little bro. We be heading towards better places. And when we find one we want to stay at, we will get our motherfucking stay on.”

“Well I hope we find one soon,” you fretted. “Any more weather like this and we’ll all freeze solid.” Kurloz’s arm tightened around you briefly, giving you a sort of hug-like squeeze.

The boy shrugged, “We’ll get there when we motherfucking get there. Ain’t no use in worrying about things you have no control over.”

* * * * *

As time goes on, you start to discover all sorts of wonderful things. For example, you were perfectly-sized to completely curl up on Kurloz’s chest. You liked to lie there on your side, listening to the slow thumping of his heart as the whole world slowly moved up and down. In return, the troll would often loosely wrap his arms around you, which also had the benefit of being a little warmer and lot more comfortable than the cold (and often wet) ground.

You discovered your luck was good enough to extend to things like scrounging for food or avoiding traps. After a particularly close call with a hinged metal thing shaped like a mouth (you found out later it was likely a bear trap), the boys both agreed that either you were to walk in front, or Kurloz could if he was carrying you. Naturally this meant the pace was a lot slower than before, but it had the added bonus of you being somewhat useful.

But the best discovery of all had to be the fact that, although somewhat peculiar, you were indeed a human. Not that you did not believe you were a human before, but rather that you had never considered the implications behind that fact. Gamzee must have realized from the start that having you tag along was both a blessing and a curse, because he was the first one to mention the possibility of you using this inherent advantage.

Kurloz had been rather upset at the thought of being separated from you (and you were probably even more anxious); in the end, though, the youngest got his way, as always. The two of you cleaned up as best as you could, and headed into the nearest town. It was the first time you had been out in public without one of the gang members accompanying you, and you found yourself shrinking away from the blatantly curious glances. However, after a few awkward questions everyone seemed to be more or less satisfied and then did their best to ignore you.

Your purpleblooded friend was on his best behavior, even going so far as to hold your hand to cross the street. After awhile, you became adjusted to answering inquiries that you could answer, and deflecting those that you could not. Gamzee apparently shared none of your qualms about lying, and would give out the most random story he could come up with on the spot. More than once you were struck speechless by his dramatic tales. At different points of the day you were a dwarf runaway from the circus, a long-lost member of royalty from a country you were pretty sure did not even exist, a mute, a mentally disabled vagabond, and an amateur magician.

His intentions became clearer later in the day, when he would make sure all attention was on you and then quickly swipe something from nearby. The first time you saw it, you had paused in the middle of explaining how you did not know how to juggle. A glare quickly had you stumbling over the rest of your sentence, eager to pretend that you had not just been entertaining the idea of telling him to put it back. Surprisingly enough, you were good for more than just a mere distraction.

When people inevitably asked about where you were heading or where you were staying for the night, they were always shocked to hear about you traveling on your own with your troll companions. The next thing you knew, they were willingly forking over goods. An elderly woman who ran the second-hand shop tutted at your tattered clothes and made you pick out three whole new sets for each of you (even though there was hardly anything in Kurloz’s size). A middle-aged man directed you to a nearby church that gave out canned goods to the needy; and once the young women took one look at you and your ‘friend,’ (they said it with a certain undertone that made it clear they thought you were being cute in some way) they made sure to pack up as much as the two of you could carry.

The most surprising thing of all happened on your way back out of town. An old couple with grey hair flagged you down and insisted that you spend the night in their guest room. Instantly on the alert, you insisted that Kurloz was waiting for you. They would not take no for an answer, however, and the man offered to drive you out in his truck ‘to go pick up your other little friend.’ When he actually saw your moirail, you could almost see the gears turning in his head. After watching the troll scoop you up into his arms like you were the softest, fluffiest kitten in the world, though, he seemed reassured.

They politely offered the three of you the use of their bathroom (which was a nice way of telling you that you smelled and were filthy) and then made a huge dinner. They both tittered happily when you required a phonebook to sit at the table properly. Full and clean for the first time in weeks, the three of you were shown to the spare bedroom after Gamzee nodded off into his bowl of ice cream. Then there was an awkward moment when Mrs. Anderson seemed to realize that there was only one bed and three bodies.

Gamzee saved the day by simply stating that all he and his brother needed were some extra blankets and things to make a pile. When she had brought every single spare pillow, blanket, quilt, and towel, the boys made a rather impressive nest. You even helped to make a canopy for it using the side of the bed and the wardrobe, completing the pillow fort. About ten minutes after ‘lights-out,’ you ended up sliding down off the bed to join them. You woke up to the shutter-click of an old-fashioned camera capturing you cuddling with Kurloz.

* * * * *

Even though you would have liked to stay a bit longer with the Andersons, you knew that the three of you had to head out again. You left laden with even more food (sandwiches and snacks prepared by Mrs. Anderson) and a new pair of boots for Kurloz. Both the trolls agreed that from then on they would test the waters in each new town to see if there were any more people like the Andersons out there. And surprisingly enough there were.

Unfortunately, there were also people like Mr. Troyer and his manager.

Over your travels, you had been donated money along with the items to help the three of you get by. This had the definite plus side of preventing Gamzee from feeling the need to steal, and the definite negative of never being enough. One evening there was a huge storm brewing in the distance, and your little group had decided to head towards an old highway in the hopes that you could hitchhike to the next town. Instead you happened upon a ratty little motel.

You knew there was going to be problems as soon as you opened the door and a snide voice called out, “No pets in the lobby!” Flinching, you had looked at your friends questioningly. Kurloz simply took a step back and gave you a nod. If it helped to get a room for the three of you, he was more than willing to play by their rules. By the time you reached the counter, the blonde man was already back to reading his magazine. You cleared your throat three times before he even looked for you, having to lean over the counter to see your face.

“We don’t rent to minors,” he huffed, looking extremely bored.

“I’m eighteen,” you had evenly replied. It was a common mistake people made. Between your short stature and your roundish baby face, it was easy for them to assume that you were still a child. An abnormally small child, perhaps, but a child nonetheless.

He raised an eyebrow mockingly, “Yeah, sure you are. Well we also don’t allow any pets in the rooms. They’ll have to stay outside.”

“B-but they can’t!” you tried your best to suppress a giggle and failed utterly. “Hee, hee! There’s a storm coming in. They’ll-heeheehee- freeze to death!”

Finally turning all of his attention to you with a heavy frown, he growled, “What’s so funny about that, punk? Geez, is there something wrong with you?”

Your distress mounting ever higher, you stumbled over a negative response and attempted to explain what the problem was. The look on his face suggested that he thought you were a freak and a lousy liar.

“Whatever,” he snapped. “The rule is firm. No pets allowed. Try your luck elsewhere.”

That was all it took to push you over the edge of nervous to angry, “They aren’t pets! They are my friends, and I am not going to leave them outside to die!”

“Look, I can call my manager in here, but he is going to say the same damn thing,” the man rolled his eyes, already picking up a phone. “You crazy radicals and your troll equality notions don’t change a thing.”

When his manager came in with an annoyed ‘Troyer, what the Hell is it now?’ and told you that there was no way in Hell you were letting ‘filthy mongrels’ into _his_ rooms, you had enough from the both of them. As you turned to storm off, the manager grabbed your shoulder to whirl you back around, obviously not done with ridiculing you. You panicked and kicked him in the shin as hard as you could, which made Troyer leap over the counter at you.

A booming roar sent him scrambling back over it. Kurloz snatched you up and away from the two men, snarling soundlessly at them. You saw in their eyes when they realized just how big of a mistake attempting to harass you was, and you felt a grim sort of satisfaction.

“That was totally motherfucking uncalled for,” Gamzee sauntered in front of the two of you with his hands in his pockets. “Now what be your main malfunction, motherfuckers?”

Troyer just started jawing the air with wide eyes, unable to say anything. His manager, however, was not as stumped, “We have a very strict no-pet policy here. I’ll have to ask you to leave and take your trolls with you.” He did not even so much as glance at Gamzee as he spoke to you, and it made your blood boil.

“Come on, guys,” you pap the larger troll’s face to calm him. “Let’s just go. We can find somewhere else to stay.”

* * * * *

Then it suddenly all makes sense. Of course. That’s why you were out in the middle of the woods with a hastily built shelter of logs and twine, huddling for what meager warmth the cool purplebloods could share with you. Despite all the blankets and clothes that had been gifted to you, you still could feel the bite of the wind on the patches of skin that were not numb yet. You have not shivered in quite some time now, and you wonder if that is a very bad sign.

Something nudges your face a few times and you reluctantly open your eyes again to finally see Kurloz’s face crowding into your field of view. You want so badly to touch his face one last time, but your arm refuses to acknowledge your simple request and remains stubbornly limp at your side. You cannot even smile to let him know that everything will be okay. Instead, your eyes drift closed once again as the world fades out to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, folks!! classes and exams are taking up a good chunk of what little free time i had left, so updates will be a little slow now. hopefully i can get some major writing done over spring break, though.


	7. The Doctor

You awaken slowly.

First is the vague sound of someone’s voice. Then you can feel the pressure against your cheek. Whatever it is, it feels wonderfully cool and you murmur your unhappiness when it leaves. The sounds start to come together to form something meaningful. Oh, right. Those would be words. Someone is trying to talk to you.

“-are just the laziest motherfucker, Lucky. Come on now, you gotta get your wake on so my brother here will stop motherfucking freaking out all over the place. Ain’t gonna do him no good to lose another moirail. That’s it. Up. Motherfucking wake up. Open those greeny-green eyes of yours.”

You are finally able to comply, squinting your eyes open against the blinding light that seems to be coming from all directions. Wow the light really hurt. After a few moments of painful grimacing, you are finally able to make out the face hovering near you.

“Welcome back, lil bro,” grins Gamzee. “Nice to see you can still move your motherfucking ocular globes.”

You want to respond to him, but all that manages to escape your throat is a rather wet hacking noise. As you double over, your bare arm slides against something smooth and pliant. And lukewarm. It felt a lot like skin. You open your eyes again, confused, to discover that you are tucked under Kurloz’s shirt and jacket to press against his bare chest. From what you were feeling, your shirt was not the only article of clothing missing. You thank what powers were in charge of the universe that you still had your boxers on. There was a limit to what you would consider acceptable, even in a pale quadrant. You weren’t quite sure if that was how the trolls would look at it, though.

“Looks like Kurloz had the right idea,” the younger troll continues. “You were all white and blue- a color that don’t look any good on you, motherfucker- so he bundled you up with him. How be you feeling?”

“’m okay,” you mutter out through your exhaustion. “Little cold still.” Kurloz nuzzles his face into your hair and tries to rub some warmth into you through the shirt and jacket.

“That probably is due to you human motherfuckers burning so hot-like. But now we gotta get a move on. Staying here would all up and ruin our chances of getting some warm motherfucking food and a place to sleep.”

“M’kay,” you rasp out, already casting about for your clothes. Kurloz seems to understand what you are trying to do after a moment, and he has you bundled back up in your clothes in a speed that left your heavy-feeling head spinning. You vaguely wondered if perhaps you were not quite as done going through withdrawal as you had assumed.

“Can you walk, motherfucker?” Gamzee’s voice sounds concerned. You try to look up to him, and wince at the pain the movement brings.

“Ugh. Um, maybe not,” you reluctantly admit as you rub your forehead. “Feels like r-round two of w-withdraw-” You are forced to cut off when the cough returns. You swear your lungs feel like they are slowly being squeezed- as if your shirt is shrinking. The two trolls share a significant glance before your moirail scoops you up into his arms.

“No big deal,” shrugs the blurry trollish form against the blinding background of fresh snow. “You never did much walking nohow. We can motherfucking get to the next town and see about settling down for awhile.”

You pat Kurloz’s face to stop the little whining noises he is subconsciously making, “’s okay. No…worries.” Before you know it, you are falling asleep again.

* * * * *

The next time you wake up fully (not those brief instances of lucid thought among the binding white world), the boys are setting up camp. It appeared that they had not found any towns within walking distance, and the old highway had been just as abandoned as the day before. No one would be willing to venture out on the roads until they had been cleared of the huge drifts of snow.

Even though Kurloz settles down with you as close to the fire as he dares, you cannot stop the wrenching coughs from erupting. He curls around you protectively, and you attempt to assure him that you will be fine. That it’s just a bad cold. That as soon as you all spend a few days with real food and shelter it will go away. You are pretty sure you do not even manage to fool yourself into believing it.

In the morning, you find yourself alone with Gamzee. He shrugs and claims that your moirail has gone off to scout ahead, hoping to find somewhere for the three of you to crash for a few nights. Then an uneasy silence falls over the two of you. You watch as the troll begins to rummage through his overstuffed backpack for something.

“Are you going to kill me?” you suddenly ask, your voice weary.

Purple eyes turn to analyze your condition, “Now why would you all up and ask about something like that?”

You cough a bit before you can manage to answer, “Because I’m slowing you down for sure now. And you talked about it before. A-and…” Another wave of hacking interrupts you for a moment, “I think we both know what that s-sound is, Gamz. And we c-c-c- we can’t go to a doctor. They ask questions. And they will p-probably report it.” You cough again, “We’d be caught. He would find us.”

You can see him working out all the options in his head, and you find yourself strangely touched that he actually is putting effort into thinking of a way to fix the problem where you do not have to be buried in a shallow grave. But you both had heard this particular sound before. It was not a good one. Damara had been lucky enough to get expert medical attention from Doctor Scratch when she had fallen this ill. You, however, did not have that option. Looked like your luck was finally running out after all.

“You would be okay with that?” he finally queries. “You’d be okay with dying? You’d be okay with all up and leaving my big bro all on his own?”

You cannot even pretend to look him in the eye as you continue, “’M gonna die anyway, Gamz. Either that or we find a doctor and get sent back. And _then_ I die. Actually, then we all die. I don’t see any other options.”

“Well, I don’t particularly like either of those motherfucking options,” snarls the boy. “So I’m just going to have to find some new ones.” With that, he yanks your glaringly-green laptop out of the backpack and stalks off. Left alone suddenly, you begin to wonder if there could be any way to stave off the inevitable. You cannot think of any.

The fire died at some point, and you do not have the strength or willpower to go find some more firewood and fumble around with the lighter. Instead, you sit propped against a tree trunk and wait for one of the boys to come back. The tight feeling in your chest increases as time goes on, and you find yourself nodding off once again.

* * * * *

Someone is shaking your shoulder, saying “You are not going to motherfucking believe this, lil’ bro, but I up and found option number three.”

“Gamz, what?” you force your heavy eyelids to open. As if the migraine and chest pain were not enough, you cough up some darkish phlegm that looks distinctly blood-colored. You try not to think about it too much.

He holds the computer screen in front of your face, “I figure it’s motherfucking worth a shot. And they are close enough.” You skim over the page he has saved, not even bothering to wonder where he found a wireless signal. It appears to be a group that supports troll emancipation. A group that also has someone called Dr. Zahhak.

“You think…?” you trail off, unable to finish your thought.

“Won’t do no harm to try,” he shrugs, closing the laptop. “I got an address and everything. But we should motherfucking go now.”

“Loz?” you question, even as the troll pulls you to your feet.

“I left a note for him,” explains the boy, “but we gotta get our move on if we want to get there before motherfucking dark. The city is not too far from here.”

“Gamz, I don’t think-” you cut off suddenly as he nods, holding up a finger for you to wait. He taps his chin before putting the backpack on backwards so it was on his front. Then he motions you over.

“Gonna give you a motherfucking hoofbeastback ride,” he helps you loop your arms around his neck. You wonder when you missed him getting taller again. You probably only come up to his armpit now.

“Why?” That one word is all you manage to grit out, but you think he understands what you are asking anyway.

“Probably ‘cause you are family now, lil’ bro,” he grunts as he starts to briskly wade through the snowdrifts. “You ain’t got to be all up in my quadrants to be family. Besides, it would break my big bro’s bloodpusher if anything happened to you. Ain’t nobody got time to deal with his sobbing ass.”

“No more…memes for you,” you scold lightly, already being lulled back to sleep by the rhythmic movement of his strides. You are too busy coughing to hear his response.

* * * * *

You have arrived in the city. You gaze at the neon lights from afar, trying to figure out where you two are. Then the realization hits you: Gamzee is avoiding running into people by taking back alleys and zooming around in that ninja-like way he and his older brother had. You suppose a young troll carrying around a person would be an unusual sight for most people; perhaps something that would cause them to call authorities. However, it was not the authorities that ended up halting your progress.

“The Hell is that?” a loud voice makes you cringe. You raise your head off of your companion’s shoulder enough to view the three thugs at the end of the alley. Normally you would feel some sort of guilt for labeling people in such a manner, but you had seen (and lived with) enough thugs to know a few of them when you see them. They distinctly have the look that they have no intention of letting you pass by them.

“Gamz…” you mutter, intending to tell him to drop you and run, but he apparently already had the same idea. Suddenly you find yourself sitting in the alley among the discarded beer bottles and old newspapers, but the troll is not fleeing. Instead, he is taking a very defensive stance in front of you, tilting his long horns forward and baring his fangs.

“Shit! Look at the little fucker!” snickers the one wearing a hoodie. “He thinks he can act like a badass feral and we will all go running with our tails tucked in.”

“Fuck that shit,” snarls the second thug. “Look, twerps, you’re on our turf. If you want safe passage, you’ve gotta pay up.”

“Yeah, give us any cash you’ve got on you!” the third chimes in.

“Motherfucking look at us, morons. We ain’t got money on us,” sneers Gamzee. “You motherfuckers just let us go by, though, and we won’t cause you any trouble.”

“What’s in the bag then?” the second one nods to the backpack still slung over the troll’s chest in full view. “You gotta have something we can hock.”

“Shit he’s got a knife!” the first one yells, and then pandemonium ensues. You struggle to your feet and tackle one of them when they pin Gamzee against a wall, and soon you find yourself being wailed on from all sides. You really had to stop tackling people who were bigger than you (even though that was basically everyone). Especially when you were outnumbered (which was almost all the time). Curling into yourself to make as small of a target as possible, you do not bother to look up when the blows cease in some loud screaming.

You finally open your eyes when a familiar embrace lifts you from the ground. Kurloz is doing that thing where his eyes look like they are flashing weird colors, and you give him a reassuring pat on the cheek. Your hand leaves a bloody smear on his face, and you realize that you are probably a lot more fucked up than you think. This time when you pass out, you can only hope that it is still from sickness and exhaustion and not blood loss.

* * * * *

“Oh my God!” someone exclaims loudly. Once again, you flinch awake at the stabbing sensation in your skull. You rather wish you had not. The blinding florescent lights practically sear your eyes in their sockets, but you are able to make out the tiny woman in a flood of dark hair. Her expression appears to be one of shock and concern, which is definitely more welcome than the dark greed of the alley thugs.

“Equius! Get in here! Now!” she yells towards the back of the room, already in movement. She snatches up some towels from a somewhere and approaches your huddled group. Gamzee is standing in front of you and Kurloz, and he snarls at her with actual venom when she gets too close. “EQUIUS! I SAID NOW!”

There is something that distinctly sounds like someone bumping into something breakable (and holding back a curse) as stomping thundered through the building. What lurches through the doorway is a giant of a man that dwarfs your moirail in both height and sheer muscle mass. You literally feel your stomach drop suddenly, your anxiety hitting the roof. He peers through his square glasses at you for a moment, critically sizing the three of you up. The smaller troll is still hunched protectively in front of you, his teeth bared and arms raised in almost a shielding manner. Your moiral’s muscles are bunched tightly around you, signaling that he was likely dropping down into a more predatory crouch as well.

“Feferi, go get the others from the back. Well, at least Ms. Harley. Possibly the younger Strider as well,” the mammoth man waits for her to leave the room before he turns back to you. “You are obviously in need of immediate care. Although my facilities are not built for caring for humans, I understand that in your present condition you may not be able or willing to be moved to a hospital. However, I will not stand for you to threaten my employees in such a manner.”

“Doctor Zahhak?” Gamzee wearily asks, still remaining crouched down.

“Yes, that would be me,” he nods seriously, actually talking to the young troll instead of you. You never realized what a difference that made in your opinion of people before, but Zahhak just went from ‘obviously a threat’ to ‘pretty okay guy’ in two seconds flat. “If you want my help, and that of my assistants, you are going to have to let me see your friend there.”

Kurloz growls suddenly as more people filter through the door. First is a blonde guy with shades, and then behind him is a girl with wireframe glasses and windswept black tresses. Although your own concern heightened greatly, you realized that they probably worked for the doctor and thus were necessary for anything to get done.

“Shhh,” you weakly pap the purpleblood’s face. “’s ‘kay.” He begrudgingly straightens back up into a more neutral pose, even though his eyes remained suspicious. At least this time you did not leave a red smear on his gray skin. The expressions on most of the faces were somewhere between scandalized and trying not to burst into giggles. (Only the blonde man had a truly neutral expression.)

“If you could follow me back into an exam room,” Zahhak suggested in a tone that did not sound suggestive at all. It sounded like an order. Luckily your boys were mostly subdued at the moment, so they followed docile enough. Kurloz even was convinced to release you onto the dubious safety of the examination table. Hacking wetly, you look around with frank curiosity and wonderment. You had not been to an actual doctor’s office in years.

Then something cold touches your skin under your shirt and you hiss, flinching away from the contact. The doctor looks at you with a sort of bewildered expression, stethoscope still in his ears. Your moirail gives a warning growl as he rubs circles on your back, trying to ease your coughing for a few moments. Unphased, the doctor listens to your breathing first, and a frown begins to form. Then he is barking orders at everyone, and you blink owlishly at the flurry of movement that immediately follows.

The first thing that happens is you get shots. Quite a few of them. Zahhak promises that they will ease the pain and make the whole process a lot smoother. Loz pets your tangled curls as your abrasions get disinfected and stitched up. Then you are bundled away for x-rays. You panic a little when your trolls are told they cannot be in the room with you, but then the girl with the glasses gives up her protective vest so at least Kurloz can stay. Then she takes Gamzee by the hand and waits with him on the other side of the wall. When the images are pulled up on the computer screen, everyone makes a lot of disapproving noises. Then the first round of questions began.

“How long have you noticed the coughing?” Zahhak places a thermometer under your tongue. You briefly wonder how you are supposed to answer with the instrument in your mouth, but Gamzee saves you from that dilemma.

“He didn’t start the motherfucking hacking and wheezing until after the storm,” he somehow appears right next to the exam table again. “He was all blue before that, and it took us awhile to wake him up.”  
The frown deepens, “Do you mean to tell me that he was outside during the blizzard that hit north of here?”

“We was all outside, motherfucker,” replies the boy. As soon as the thermometer is removed, you chide him to mind his language. He answers with, “Sorry, lil’ bro. I all up and motherfucking forget about that.” You would have groaned if another coughing fit did not strike you at that exact moment. As Kurloz thumps your back, Zahhak turns his full attention towards the third member of your family.

He has Gamzee clamber onto the table next to you and begins to treat his injuries as well. You are saddened to see the busted up knuckles and the lacerations on his arms and face, but the red blood on his claws at least lets you know that he gave as good as he received. Much like in everything else, the younger troll just treats the whole thing like an unnecessary annoyance. He complains about the stitches and almost gets away with abjuring the disinfectant just through sheer perseverance. In the end, he gets patched up as well.

The wheezing was not getting any better, so after you coughed up some more bloody phlegm, you were given some pills and some sort of mask to make it easier for you to breathe. The events of the day finally catching up with you, you fall asleep to the sound of Gamzee arguing about whether or not he needed gauze for his wounds and the sensation of Kurloz fretfully checking your own bandages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for some reason, i still really love this pairing. i have no idea why. i thought about changing the tone of their relationship ((especially with the leprechaun romance system now a thing)) but i just cant do it. so kurloz and clover are going to remain moirails. i am the captain of this ship and if need be i am going down with it.


	8. The Confrontation

"Lucky....Lucky? You gonna motherfucking wake up anytime soon?" someone is poking your forehead. You grumble about it, wondering why Gamzee wants to wake you up so early. Kurloz shifts beneath you, probably returning fire if the loud complaints were anything to go by. There is something beeping nearby in a rhythmic fashion, causing you to eventually give up on remaining unconscious. You rub your eyes, glancing around with no small amount of confusion. You appear to be in an office room of some sort. Filing cabinets seem to have been moved out of the way to make room for the cot you and Kurloz are lying in, along with some boxy looking machines with screens and knobs galore.

Your hand droops and hits something placed over your face. It is a a plastic mask over your nose and mouth, connected to some tubing to one of the nearby machines. There are wires and clear lines crossing your vision, looking exactly like a hospital scene in the movies. Then the memories catch up with you, and you realize that is exactly where you are. Kurloz must have crawled onto the cot with you at some point, settling so that you were sleeping curled up on your side on his chest like usual. That was really thoughtful of him. You pat his chest absentmindedly, and he immediately stops his assault of rapid-fire pokes on his brother to start fussing over you.

Ignoring your fretful companion for the moment, you glance over Gamzee to assess the damage done. He has some bandages on his arms and face, but nothing appears to be too serious. Instead, he looks annoyed- scratching at the edges of the gauze and grumbling under his breath about overbearing women. Catching you staring, he grins.

"Morning, lil' bro," he clambers up onto the cot to sit in what little space was not being taken up by Kurloz. "Nice to see you opening your motherfucking ocular globes again. You've been doing a lot more sleeping than waking lately."

Your mouth is dry, and your tongue feels heavy, but you manage to reply, "Sorry, Gamz. I'd rather be awake."

The grin grows wider, "You sure motherfucking should! This place is bichtits awesome! It's full of miracles, bro. Everyone is all friendly with one another- even to me and Kurloz. Well, except the Doctor Z motherfucker. He's kind of bossy and big."

Kurloz quickly signs that the doctor in question is okay, because he is taking care of you. You smile softly, signing back for something to drink. Sitting up as slowly and carefully as he can, your moirail grabs a glass of water from the top of a nearby filing cabinet. It even has a bendy straw, like the kind you used to play with instead of actually use. When you take the mask of to take a sip, it suddenly becomes a lot harder to breathe again. It was like the air suddenly got thinner. You drink hastily and then quickly replace the mask, gulping down the air greedily.

A giant hand pats your back softly, and you sink back in relief. The beeping of the machines slows back down to its previous rhythm, and you vaguely wonder what each of them are measuring. Calliope never liked hospital scenes in movies, so all you know is randoms words or phrases like "heart rate" and "blood pressure." The meanings of what exactly those things were still somewhat above your head.

* * * * *

"Oh, you're awake now!" a voice exclaims. You quickly look up from the paper and crayons Gamzee had brought you to see a girl standing in the doorway. She sweeps her wild black hair from her face, revealing her bright green eyes obscured behind thick glasses. You recognize her from before as being the one who lent Kurloz her protective vest. That at least made her okay by your books. Even if she whirls into the room like a small hurricane of limbs and objects and talking.

"You're not really supposed to be moving around yet, but I suppose it can't hurt if you just sit up. No sudden movements or doing anything strenuous, though. I went out and got you guys some things to tide you over- clothes and toiletries and stuff. I'm not exactly sure if they will fit right, but we can always take them back to the store. Oh, right, I haven't properly introduced myself. I'm Jade!" she holds out a hand in front of you.

You take it hesitantly, "Uh... heh. Clo-" You cut off with a few weak coughs, fully intending to finish your statement once it stopped.

"We call him Lucky," interrupts the troll currently busy filling in a large chunk of his paper with the red crayon. You really, really hope that he is not drawing wounded people, but you cannot tell from this angle.

You giggle nervously, "Hee hee. That's Gamzee. And this is Kurloz." You point up with your uncaptured hand to your moirail, who is looming over you so he can draw with you in his lap. Now that you think of it, it is pretty rare for anyone to willingly get so close to your giant friend. Most people were put off by his brooding nature and lanky frame- and perhaps the long horns, sharpened claws, and pointy fangs did not help. Jade, on the other hand, does not look worried at all about potentially being mauled. It is a nice change.

She pumps your hand a few times, but gently enough that your arm did not feel like it was getting ripped out of its socket. Then she turns attention to your scribbled drawings the three of you had been working on, "I see you, Kurloz, and Gamzee over here. So who is that supposed to be?" Her finger points out your trio all holding hands before moving to the clumsily-drawn rendition of Calliope as her trollsona. She once explained it to you as a sort of pretending game, but sometimes you wondered if she was being entirely honest with you. You had drawn her with green eyes and swirls on her cheeks, and a pair of white wings. You rather think she was prettier as a human, but she would have liked to be drawn like this.

"That's...heh...a friend I used to have," you answer her truthfully. "Her name was Callie."

"Oh," Jade's voice suddenly sounds sad. She quickly recovers, though. "Oh! Doctor Zahhak gave you cough suppressants because you cracked a few ribs, so that's why you're not supposed to move around too much. The good news is that the pneumonia is responding well to antibiotics, which means you should be able to breathe better soon. We still need to talk to the doctor about some things, but you will be feeling better in no time at all. Isn't that great?"

"R-really?" you blink at her enthusiasm.

"You bet!" she winks. "I think Dr. Zahhak had to send off some blood to a friend for some tests, but other than that you just have to sit back and rest for now. We'll have to figure out a set up for the three of you once you can be moved. I'm going to talk to Dave and see how he would feel about taking you guys in for the time being."

"Heehee, D-dave?"

"Oh, you haven't really met Dave yet, have you? No worries. He was the guy wearing the stupid sunglasses. Inside. At night. Because he's a huge dork. He likes to think he's cool, but he's really just a big softie. I'm sure-"

"I don't like that motherfucker," growls Gamzee, interrupting the girl.

"Well why not, little guy?" she turns her attention to the troll sitting at the foot of the cot, still working on his drawing. "You know, he's got two little trolls of his own. They're probably around your age." You watch his ears perk up just a bit at that.

Just as he is about to reply, another voice calls out and Jade cuts him off, "Sorry, I've got to go now. I will talk to you more about all this later. And I will let Dr. Zahhak know that you're up." Then she is off again, a flurry of movement and locks of hair whipping around. You find yourself staring at the empty door frame, wondering why anyone ever needed to be in such a hurry. You've seen Itchy move slower, for crying out loud. Kurloz pats your head and you nod, going back to your drawing. There was nothing you could do about it right now, anyway.

* * * * *

A knock on the door makes you choke on the water you had been trying to drink, causing you to cough. A sharp pain in your side eventually makes you subside, along with the growling of your moirail. The massive doctor is holding out his empty hands, neither afraid nor particularly annoyed, acting as if this was a common occurrence. You pap Kurloz a few times and shoosh him, worried that he might get punished regardless.

"I apologize for startling you," Zahhak begins. "If it is alright, we need to talk." You see Jade slipping inside the room along with the man with the dark glasses (Dave?) and someone who looked a lot like him. And a troll slunk in after all of them. Suddenly the room seems very crowded, and immediately your anxiety cranks up a notch.

In a flash, Jade is pressing some buttons and turning some dials to cease the various noises the machines were emitting. "There's no reason to be worried," smiles the girl down at you. "We just want to ask you some questions."

"Heh, heh," you are literally so worried about this that you cannot even manage your usual giggle. You glance up at Kurloz's face for guidance. He looks extremely unhappy about it, but he gives a small nod. "O-okay."

"Let's start with how you three showed up here like you were fresh from a war zone," drawls the blonde man.

"Um, heh, that is, we got jumped," you fumble for words. Kurloz combs through your hair with his fingers, and you take a deep breath to calm yourself. Then he is lifting you up so he can move out from under you, placing you back down on the cot where he previously had been sitting. You try not to feel abandoned, but you cannot hide your obvious relief when he simply sits on the foot of the cot to face you (moving Gamzee towards you to manage this). Then he starts to sign.

He tells you that everything will be okay. That he will be right there, and he will answer all of their questions. All you have to do, is translate what he is saying. Signing that you have done this lots of times before, and thus there was no reason to worry, he gives you a thumbs up.

Gamzee snorts, "Lucky here is a really shy motherfucker. And he has this giggling thing when he gets all up and nervous-like. So Kurloz said he will answer your questions with Lucky's help."

"Right," nods Dr. Zahhak, not taken aback in the least by the awkward arrangement or the fact Gamzee apparently decided that now that you were free from Kurloz's lap, you had to shove over and share the pillows with him. "Well then, Kurloz, I would like to know how you three arrived at my clinic in such a state."

Kurloz signs something you know even they can understand and you nervously clear your throat, "We, uh, walked."

"Technically, lil' bro, _we_ walked. You got carried," corrected the smaller troll.

"So I surmised," the doctor does not sound the least bit amused. "I was more referring to how Gamzee and... Lucky were injured." A dark look passes Kurloz's face and he signs something terse to you and you shake your head. "What did he say?"

"Uh, I-I'm not sure heehee! I-I don't think I c-can repeat that!" you place the mask back over your face. Although you were fine just using it in short bursts, it gave you something to do with your hands. You also give Kurloz a patented 'please do not get us beat up over something stupid' looks. He resigns himself to rephrasing his answer, and suddenly you understand.

"Kurloz wasn't with us," Gamzee gets to the point first. "So he don't up and know what motherfucking happened."

"Well, perhaps you can answer, Gamzee," the hulking man turns towards the two of you. "While refraining from swearing, if you would so please."

"I suppose I can motherfu- uh, try," he shrugs, jostling your shoulder a bit. "Nothing important, though. Just some mo-uh, punks who saw a little-bitty troll and his even littler-bittier human bro."

"You're saying that someone saw an easy target and, what, decided to mug you?" the blonde man spoke up again.

The response of your brother would scare you had it been directed anywhere in your direction. He sneers sinisterly, "They wanted our backpack. And I wasn't about to let them motherfucking take it. The laptop all up and had our map to here." Sometimes you really wonder if you are pacifying the right brother.

"Ah, I think we understand," Zahhak draws the attention away from the stoic-faced individual to himself. "Kurloz, could you tell me how Lucky got ill?"

You wish you did not have to be the middle man as you translate, "We were stuck outside when the, uh, big storm hit. Lucky- er, I- kind of... went to sleep? No? Unconscious. Gamzee called me blue-"

"Blue as a motherfucking Pepsi can," he mutters a correction.

"Uh, yeah," you attempt to get back on track. "He says they couldn't wake me up so well after that. And then I started coughing really bad."

"Wait, what? The blizzard that hit north of here?" Jade turns to you with wide eyes. "Why were you kids outside in that?" She does not even realize she is crowding into your space until Gamzee gives a low growl. She rocks back on her heels with a muttered, "Sorry!"

Kurloz taps your foot with his own to get your attention, signing his reply. "Ah, the hotel owner. He said he wouldn't let pets stay in the rooms. So we kept walking."

"Pets? The fuckin nerve of some people," grumbles the second blonde man. You wondered if he was related to the one you think is named Dave. "So he turned you kids out into the cold?" Kurloz just nods at this.

"Can we ask as to why you were outside in the first place? Or where you were walking to?"

Your moirail's face tightens just the tiniest bit as you translate, "Yes. You can ask, but we will not answer."

"I assumed that would be the response," sighs the doctor. "Strider?"

The one you were no longer sure was called Dave steps forward, "Sup? Right. As much as we were willing to help out you kids, we are morally, if not legally, obligated to tell the authorities that you are here. Meaning, we checked the missing persons records, and Lucky here is listed as a runaway minor by the name of 'Clover English.' I'm guessing you did not think your folks would call the cops, but they did. So I hate to say it, but you are going to have to go back home and make it up with them."

It feels like the floor suddenly disappeared, leaving you horribly floating in midair with this awful feeling in your stomach. No. It was worse. It was much, much worse. _He_ knew you were gone. He was looking for you. And now, he had found you. Your chest hurt so, so bad. No, Kurloz and Gamzee! He was coming. They had to get out! He was coming! Your vision started to go black. Perhaps he was already here.

* * * * *

You gasp for air. Even though you eyes are open, it is still pitch black around you. You can vaguely hear someone's voice talking to you. The sounds slowly resolve into words as your vision begins to clear.

"-ver? Clover? Lucky? It's okay, Lucky. You just had a panic attack," Jade is hovering directly over you. "Everything is okay. Just try to breathe normally. We've still got you hooked up on the oxygen mask." Something drips onto your face, and all of the sudden you want to retch. The thick, metallic smell of blood is in the air. There are four bloody lines on running across the face above you, and you recognize the appearance of those wounds. She just got grazed by troll claws.

Then you realize there is a commotion going on at the other side of the room. A huge crash and a roar from Kurloz has you sitting up despite the woman attempting to hold you down. Your moirail is picking up another filing cabinet, obviously having already thrown one through the doorway. You can see the bulky frame of the doctor beyond the doorway, apparently attempting to keep the two blonde men behind him. Gamzee is facing off with the finned troll inside the room, snarling with lowered horns and crooked fingers.

"Loz!" you scramble to get to him as quickly as possible. The woman with the green eyes so close to your own holds you back, refusing to let you down. Looking over his shoulder, your moirail drops the metal cabinet in the doorway, appearing at your side in a flash. Jade was smart enough to move out of his direct path, stepping away from the cot swiftly. He scoops you up from the bed, wires and all, and clutches you to his massive chest. You manage to wrap your arms around his neck, burrowing your face into that spot where his shoulder and neck joined.

"It's okay, Loz," you sooth. "It's okay. I'm okay. Shoosh now. It's okay." His chest is still heaving, but you can feel the thudding of his heart begin to slow. You glance over his shoulder to see Gamzee warily backing up to where you are, still not ready to turn his back on the other troll. "Gamz, it's okay. It's okay."

"Bullshit," he snarls. "We can't go back, Lucky. We can't."

"That was an extremely violent reaction," notes the blonde man called Strider as he re-enters the room. He places himself in front of the strange troll and Jade, taking a stance that suggested he was quite used to fighting. The doctor goes to check up on Jade's wounds, but she bats his hands away from her face impatiently.

"Of course it was! You _gave him a panic attack_ , Dave!" she whirls on Strider. "What on Earth were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that it would be awesome for us not to have the cops called because we have apparently kidnapped a minor," snaps Dave/Strider. "I didn't think the damn kid would have a heart attack or the trolls were going to go apeshit on us."

"Dave," the finned troll finally speaks up, rolling his eyes. "The kid is the big one's fucking _moirail_. And _you_ talk to him and all the sudden he goes into a fit. Of course he's gonna attack you. Look at their claws. Those two are attack trolls." All of the adults pause as they digest this information.

Jade suddenly looks quite ill, "Like...Vriska?" You perk up at that. You had heard that name before. You were not quite sure where you had heard of it, but you had. It looks like Gamzee knows the name as well, if the twitch of his ears was anything to go by.

The troll shrugs, "I dunno. It's just not something normal trolls would do- sharpen their claws to points like that. And the way they reacted like that- they are at least capable of fighting." Your two brothers are watching the whole exchange with a sort of uneasy shift to their postures.

"If we weren't able to fight, we would be motherfucking dead," sneers the youngest troll. "What about you, seadweller? Your hands too webbed to motherfucking brawl?"

"I'm not above hitting a kid, Smallfry," growls the stranger, and you can see his earfins flare out.

"Down, Cronus," the Dave/Strider lookalike drones. "We aren't trying to pick a fight, here. You too, Dave."

"I am in complete agreement," nods Doctor Zahhak decisively. "We all need to remain calm and look at this issue rationally. Since it has become obvious that you are not willing to return to your home, I suggest we discuss your reasons behind this decision. Also, I would like to finish our conversation from earlier." He pauses a moment, "What I am attempting to say is that I may still be willing to aid you, depending on your circumstances."

You can see Gamzee's shoulders relax just a tiny bit, "So... you mean you won't send us back?"

"If my preliminary diagnoses is correct, there is reason to believe that Clover is from an abusive home," he has to pause as Jade makes a noise something like a gasp and a noise of sympathy. "Therefore, it is not likely that Child Services would be willing to give him up. He would be placed in the foster care system." You blink at the sudden change of atmosphere in the room. Everyone suddenly seems highly uncomfortable.

"And what about us?" the purpleblood is on high alert again.

"There are now similar care systems in place for trolls," the doctor explains. "Although I am not sure how old you are, Kurloz, so the two of you may be separated. The traditional system still stops at the equivalent of the age of eighteen."

You tilt your head, "But...heh, I'm eighteen."

"Nineteen," corrects Gamzee. "Your wriggling day was two days ago." You feel like everyone is staring at you, and a sweep across the room proves the feeling correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, eventually the hurt-comfort is going to stop. first will be story-time for the new characters to catch up with the situation. then i think clover needs a lot of time to heal up now, so there will be more fluff after that. and everyone knows fluff is the best thing ever


	9. The Story

"Zahhak?" the unnamed blonde turns to the doctor.

"Well, it does appear that Clov- erm, Lucky- here suffers from Pituitary Dwarfism," the giant rakes a hand through his hair, pulling quite a bit of it loose from his ponytail. "Because of the stunted growth and delay of puberty, it makes correctly estimating his age nearly impossible. Especially if he has not been receiving hormonal therapy, which I am highly skeptical he ever has."

"Let me see that missing person's report, Dave," the first man holds out his hand. After a phone is handed over, he flicks over the screen a few times. "It says here that one 'Clover English,' age 15, ran away from home in Washington. That's pretty damn far away. Also, dude, you are barely taller than Karkat. Anyway, notice anything strange about this?"

"What?" Dave looks annoyed, but it is really hard to tell with his lack of facial expressions. You wonder if he is really serious all the time, or if his face got frozen like that.

"It says that there is no social security number or birth certificate because of a household fire," the man shows Zahhak the screen. "If this kid's parents knew anything, they would know you can get a copy of the birth certificate at the hospital that he was born at. Also, there are no records anywhere online if you Google Clover English. Well, at least not any of _this_ kid."

"Are you suggesting that someone is searching for this boy under a false name?" frowns the doctor.

Jade suddenly interrupts, "Well, if the missing person notice is suspicious, and Lucky claims that he is nineteen, then there is no reason to call Social Services or the police. Right?"

"Well what are we supposed to do with him?" the younger blonde man is actually frowning now, and somehow he became a lot more terrifying.

"I cannot provide any further medical care for him," adds the doctor. "I'm a veterinarian. This is entirely beyond my scope, both medically and legally. He needs to be referred to a pediatrician who works with hormonally deficient individuals."

"Then we do that!" she explodes on them. "You two are acting like this is the most complicated problem you have ever come across! It's simple. We room and board Lucky, Kurloz, and Gamzee. We find a doctor who can help out Lucky. We bill Crocker Corp. for anything the two trolls need. That basically solves everything!" They stare at her for a moment.

"Well... I guess that was the basic plan originally," agrees Dave. "Isn't that why you wanted us to meet them? Even though I insisted that we really don't have any more room for another troll, let alone two."

"I don't think _anyone_ is going to have any room for that purpleblood," notes the seatroll. "But it couldn't hurt to try, right?" He is doing some sort of weird thing where he waggles his eyebrows up and down. Kurloz frowns and signs something, tapping your shoulder when you just sit there.

"Uh... Kurloz says if you do that weird eyebrow thing again he 'will rip them straight off your face and feed them to you.' Heh. But, that is, I don't think he really means that," you pause as Kurloz replies. "No, okay. He says he does. But if you do that to me or Gamzee, he will rip something else off." If you were not certain what he was referring to, it became obvious when Gamzee snickers at the remark, and the poor finned troll goes a little pale.

"Cronus, lay off the moves. I would prefer that you stay in one piece, and this guy seems pretty serious about that threat," the corner of Dave's mouth ticks upward just a tiny bit. "But if you are all calm now, we should probably get back to answering Doctor Zahhak's questions. I assume that there should be no problem in answering them, since we already have a pretty good idea that you ran away for good reason."

Jade immediately latches on to this suggestion, "That sounds like a very good idea. Plus, you should probably put Lucky back down. He's not supposed to move around a whole lot, remember?" At her gentle reminder, Kurloz finally decides to place you back down on the cot. You cannot say that you really appreciate it. But he makes sure the pillows are piled up behind you and tucks the blanket around you, so it is not that bad. Gamzee immediately climbs up next to you, placing himself on the outer side facing the others. Then you moirail settles down on the end of the bed, giving you a thumbs up when he is ready. The tension in the air is still thick, but neither of them seem like they are ready to get aggressive again. You count this as a small victory.

"Right," Doctor Zahhak clears his throat. "Let's start at the beginning. The three of you had run away from your previous home. You got caught out in the blizzard, which is how Lucky became ill. You then found out about this clinic from the internet and made your way here, getting caught up in an attempted mugging on your way. Is this all correct?" Kurloz gives a solemn nod.

"Then could you explain to us why you left your previous home?" presses the doctor. "And how, exactly, you ended up on the opposite coast from there?"

* * * * *

"The house burned down," is how Kurloz begins, so you translate as well as you can. "So we left when that happened. Um, it was a bad place. A bad place for trolls and a bad place for Lucky."

"Could you go into more detail?" prompts Dave. "Like, we get that it wasn't good. Do you have examples?"

You wince at the mention of the mansion, "Uh, it was a deathplace? Grave? It was a grave for trolls. We lost Meulin. And... who?" You did not recognize the name sign he used and wait for him to spell out the name, "Mituna? Oh, right! He was before me. Um, before I got there."

"Do you mean that they lost fights?" Zahhak sounds like he is gritting his teeth.

You are already shaking your head, "Meulin left on an errand one day and...she never came back. Mituna.... went broken in the head? Oh. He went soft. Fin and Trace took him behind the shed and..." You don't really want to finish that sentence, but Kurloz does it for you. He points a forefinger to his head and jerks his thumb, mimicking a gun. You feel more than a little ill.

"I see," the doctor regains his composure after a moment. "Who are Fin and Trace? Are they other trolls?"

"Heh, no. Fin and Trace were humans. They worked for... the Boss," you pause, struggling to get your arms free so you could sign back to Kurloz. "Oh. Yeah, they were, uh.... not nice. No, I'm not saying that.... Oh. I guess that's where Gamzee learned that word."

"They were motherfucking assholes," grumbles the troll in question. "They liked to gang up on Lucky here, and me, and everything else all up and smaller than them."

"So, they were employed by... Lucky's guardian? I'm not sure who you are referring to as 'the Boss' in that statement."

You wince at the mere mention of him, "Um. Could you rephrase? He is not sure what you mean by guardian."

"Lusus," cuts in the seatroll. "He wants to know the kid's lusus."

You are not surprised at the answer, "He says 'Lucky doesn't have one.'"

"Parents, kid," snaps Dave at you. "Or whoever took care of you. Does 'Boss' refer to one of your parents?" You flinch instinctively at the raised voice, and Gamzee beside you hisses softly.

Kurloz taps your foot until you look back at him. He reassures you that it is okay and then signs an answer for you. "Um... Boss is the one... th-that bought Lucky. His name was English." You wait for the next question. And wait. Finally you lean to look around Gamzee and see what is going on. The doctor and Cronus are gaping like fish, their mouths opening and closing slowly. Jade has a look of confusion. Although both the blonde men still have poker faces, their eyebrows are raised above their dark shades. You wonder what you said that was wrong.

* * * * *

The seatroll, Cronus, whirls towards the guy named either Dave or Strider, "What? Is he serious right now? Humans _buy_ other humes? What the _fuck_?"

The man swallows, “It’s called human trafficking. It’s highly illegal, but yeah, sometimes it does still happen. Usually foreign women sold to be somebody’s perfect wife or…kids…” Jade suddenly looks quite ill.

“This is…um,” the giant with the ponytail suddenly seems at a loss. “Well, I suppose we will have to make do without medical records, then. At this point I would be remiss if I did not recommend for you to visit a hospital for a more thorough physical examination- but I will not make you go!” He lifts his hand pleadingly towards your now bristling, snarling trolls.

“Jesus, Zahhak,” the older blonde releases a long breath that could almost be called a sigh. “Don’t you think he’s been through enough?”

"I'm with Dirk on this one," Jade crosses her arms, somehow looking threatening despite the fact she is probably the smallest of the group. Then again, you are quite sure that at the moment she wants to look intimidating. You think perhaps the wounds on her face are helping her with that goal. You pap Kurloz's foot and shoosh him, giving Gamzee a nudge in the ribs at the same time. They get the hint and simmer down, but you can tell that they are on their guard now.

"Uh," the doctor suddenly seems at a loss for words momentarily. "I do believe I said I would not press the issue, so there is no reason for such hostility. However, it appears that we now have more questions, some of which may be very uncomfortable for you, Clover." You wince when he uses your old name. After all this time, you are used to the boys, and those strangers that came and went, calling you Lucky. Dr. Zahhak notices this, "Um, Lucky. Would you be willing to talk about it?"

You shift a little bit. Not quite squirming, but obviously uncomfortable. You look at Kurloz, who apparently is trying to calm you through sheer willpower right now. You can practically feel the chill rays coming from him. Then Gamzee slings an arm around your shoulders, murmuring, "We got your back, lil' bro." So you take a deep breath and nod.

"Heh. I-I can try?" you are so proud of yourself for not bursting into terrified giggles.

"That is very brave of you," praises Jade and you are pretty sure you just shot her a weird look. "If you become too uncomfortable, you can stop at any time. Okay?" You do not quite understand. Usually if someone wanted to know something, they either badgered you, bullied you, or simply knocked you around until your teeth rattled. However, you give her a quizzical kind of nod, tilting your head a little like you are not quite sure what she is talking about.

"Right," Dr. Zahhak is all business again. "Well, firstly, how long were you... with this English man?" Your brain stalls at this. You try to think back to a time where you were not at the mansion. There are vague flashes. A small apartment. A haggard, angry woman you are pretty sure was probably your mother. Possibly. You think. You are starting to realize that your memory is not what you thought it was. Everything in the past few weeks with the boys is pretty clear. Anything else is kind of hazy, like looking at scenes through a heavy fog with the silence pressing in heavily on you.

"He showed up out of the blue one day," Gamzee scratches his chin. "Boss bought him as a present for his twins. Another kid to keep them company. That was a long motherfucking time ago. We don't measure time the way you do." Oh, right. You had almost forgotten that you were a birthday present for Caliborn and Calliope.

"How many sweeps?" you recognize the voice of Cronus even though you cannot see him. It seemed like he was the only one capable of speaking at the moment.

"Right. That was, what, five? five and a half sweeps?" he waits for approval from his brother. "Yeah, close enough."

"Ten or eleven years ago?" the strange troll sounds shell-shocked. "Wouldn't he just have been a little pupa?"

You kind of nod, deciding you do need to actually answer for yourself, "I was p-pretty little. Well, littler. Heh."

"Okay, right," Zahhak seems to nod to himself, as if he is trying to force his brain to accept what has just been said. "You mentioned something about twins?"

Your face briefly lights up, "Callie! She was pretty nice." Then you remember the other half and immediately wilt, "A-a-and... her brother." Gamzee grumbles something that distinctly sounds like a long stream of curse words and insults for a moment.

"Spoiled rotten bastard," he finally summarizes his mumbled monologue. "But it was motherfucking fun as Hell to yank his chain sometimes. Although sometimes that just made it worse. That motherfucker just wasn't quite right in the thinkpan. Not that really any of them were. Just, he was worse."

"Callie?" the bespectacled girl suddenly turns and goes to pick up one of the papers now scattered on the floor. She holds up the crude drawing you had made of your little family, "The little troll you drew?" You can see the others craning to get a look at the troll-version of your friend.

Gamzee facepalms as Kurloz finally taps your foot so he can say something, "Uh, right. No, she was human, but... a friend of trolls? Soldier? Oh! Ally. Like you guys are. But... her dad... heh. Yeah. He didn't like that. So she kind of had to... keep it secret. Some of the guys were okay, but most of them would have told Boss."

"You mean Fin and Trace?" their eyes are suddenly back on you and you immediately look back towards Kurloz. He signs some numbers at you, rapid-fire dismissive gestures that if you had been anyone else you would not have recognized as names.

"Itchy, Doze, Trace, Fin, Die, Crowbar, Stitch, Sawbuck, Eggs, Biscuits. I dunno about Matchsticks either. Snowman- obviously a troll supporter herself. No. Quarters and Cans wouldn't. I-I do not!" you take a break from translating to furiously sign back at him that he is being a paranoid idiot. You do not have unresolved pale feelings for the two giant thugs. You just happened to like them best because they were nice to you. And not the Doc Scratch creepy version of nice. No, you were not going to have a feelings jam about them being dead (at least not right now).

"Um, hello?" the one Jade calls Dave interrupted. "Leaving us out of the conversation here. Also, what's with the weird names?"

The woman elbows him hard enough to almost knock him off balance, "Dave! Rude! But that is a lot of people, Lucky."

"Well, uh, there was also Doc, but he wasn't really... part of the crew," you kinda of try to vaguely gesture, but it was really hard to explain the weird phenomenon that was the pasty veterinarian. Now you think of it, Dr. Zahhak had called himself a veterinarian. Which was really odd, because he was about as far from Doc Scratch as a guy could get. "Nobody much liked Doc Scratch."

There is a harsh intake a breathes. The mood in the room just went south really quick- you can practically taste the storm of emotions going on. Your trolls shift, moving so that they can be up and ready to fight in a flash (if they have to). Both are kind of growling lowly, and you can hear Cronus practically snarling. It is suddenly really hard for you to breathe, and you fumble with the mask hanging loosely around your neck.

"Did... Did you know... Vriska then?" Jade manages to choke out.

"Vris...ka?" you ponder for a moment. That name sounds vaguely familiar. You turn to your brother, "Gamz, wasn't that... wasn't that the little girl Doc had? The one th-that knocked me down?"

"She was gonna do more than that if she had her way," snorted the purpleblood. "Yeah. I think that was her motherfu- uh, her name. The one with the mismatched horns and the spider-eye. She was one of his fighting trolls." You grimace. You did not like to think of troll fighting, even though you know Boss frequently attended them and bet on the outcome. But Vriska had been awful small when you had met her. You mean, you were obviously smaller, but still.

"Oh...oh my God," those bright green eyes are filling up with tears. "You... you two never fought against her, right?"

Gamzee snorts, "Whoa there. We ain't fighting trolls. We're guard trolls. Big fucking difference there. Main one being we, like, guard shit. We kept trespassers out, but we didn't go around all up and killing them. Just rough 'em up and hand 'em over to Boss or the others. Well, Kurloz did most of that. I kept an eye on the kids. Gotta make sure no one was trying to get their motherfucking assassination on or whatnot."

"So...you two are supposed to just look scary and beat people up, rather than fight other trolls to the death," clarifies younger blonde. "Awesome. That does make me a little more relaxed, knowing that you aren't potential killers." You feel no reason to contradict him, especially with the excellent poker faces your two boys have. You honestly never asked them if they had ever killed anyone. Nor did you particularly care to know the answer.

Kurloz signs again and you feel like a moron, "Uh. I forgot about them. On purpose. They were scary." The younger troll chuckles at that, and you feel justified into elbowing him, "You were scared of Maiden, too! The whole... eye-flashy thing a-and then throwing-a-truck-at-you thing!"

He abruptly stops chuckling, rubbing his arm where it had been broken, "You had to all up and remind me of that. Damn Witch was scary as Hell. Fucking rustblood." He perks up considerably, "Maybe they're dead now!"

"Whoa, whoa," the older blonde (Dirk? Strider?) raises his hands. "Now why the Hell would a kid like you be happy to think about someone dying? Especially because it sounds like she was another troll."

Kurloz taps your foot, spelling out a word for you, "Um... psychopath? She like to kill things. Slowly." You shiver, remembering the time you found Damara torturing a rabbit with a broken leg. "Yeah, her sister, too. _They_ were fighting trolls. Attack trolls. They... maybe broke Mituna?"

"Ah," he frowns. "Well, you probably still shouldn't wish death by burning alive on them. That's kind of messed up." You personally agree. While they scared you senseless, they were still ladies. They deserved to be treated well. And probably would be a lot nicer if they had been treated better in the first place. You have a bad feeling they probably are dead now.

"We are kind of getting off track here," Jade rescues you from answering. "So, you knew of Vriska, but you didn't really know her, know her?"

You give a small nod. "We heard... about the arrest. W-was she... the one that testified?" She nods, closing her eyes and- Oh God. Oh no. You made Jade cry. There are actual tears streaming down her face. What did you do?

"B-but- that's a good thing? Right?" you panic a little, waving with your hands like that would somehow make her stop. "I-I mean, she survived. Right?" Oh no. You made it worse. How on Earth did you actually manage to make it worse? She is sobbing now, and she flings herself at you and Gamzee- crushing you to her chest. Over her shoulder you can see Kurloz raise a single eyebrow, but otherwise he seems okay with just watching her for now. With highly suspicious eyes.

"Vriska was... she got the death sentence, kid," Dirk informs you. "She was a killer." 

You gape. "B-but! I! _What_?" You think about her. The girl with the pretty face and the unique horns and the even more unique eye. It was like her pupil split into pieces. It was like a star. Then you realize the bull-horn troll that had been with her was dead too. And. Wow. That was really hard to accept. They were just kids. They were younger than you! Hell, they were probably younger than Gamzee! You have no idea what to do. Your arms are effectively pinned to your sides, stuck between Gamzee and the woman's surprisingly strong arms. It kind of hurts a bit.

"Jade," the younger blonde is tapping on her shoulder, "don't smother the kids. What happened to cracked ribs?"

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaims, releasing you so suddenly you kind of collapsed back onto the pillows with a grunt. "I'm so, so, so sorry! I wasn't thinking!" She is wiping the tears from her eyes, trying to get herself under control. The youngest troll takes this time to pat out the wrinkles in his clothes as if he is dusting her germs off. Kurloz leans forward to tuck the blanket back around you, this time letting you keep your arms free. Jade does not even flinch when his arm brushes her elbow. She is definitely your favorite.

"He's really clingy, huh?" the aquatic troll smirked.

"My bro's first moirail was Mituna," frowns Gamzee. "So if he don't want to lose a motherfucking second one, that's really none of your business, Sharkfucker." You see the tense set to you moirail's shoulders when he leans back. You wish you could simply shoosh and pap all those bad memories away, but that is not really something you can do. So instead, you sign to him. As you reassure him that you aren't going anywhere anytime soon, he grins and waves you off. Although he does demand extra cuddles later, so maybe he just did not want your pale time to be intruded on by strangers.

"Okay, I am seriously starting to feel left out," the younger blonde practically whines. "Is he a mute? Because, he practically burst my eardrums screaming when you had your panic attack. And obviously he has been hearing the questions we've been asking, so he's not deaf."

"Um," is all you manage out before Kurloz narrows his eyes at the man. For a tense second, you wonder what he is about to do. Then he simply opens his mouth wide, giving a clear view of his sharp fangs and the stump of tongue way in the back. You have to give the doctor and the two blondes credit; none of them visibly flinch at the sight. The other two wince.

"Whelp," Dave deadpans.

"You asked," the one you are now mostly sure is his brother helpfully supplies.

"Yeah, I know, but I wasn't expecting his tongue to have gotten ripped out of his head. Jesus Christ!" he pauses for a moment, scrubbing at his face under his sunglasses. "You guys are pretty fucking messed up, huh?" Although Gamzee snarls lowly at this, when you glance over at Kurloz you can see he just gives a sort of noncommittal shrug of agreement. Of course he would agree. You nervously giggle a bit at that.

"Well, shit," Dave smirks. "Welcome to the family, then! Now we have to figure out what to do with you guys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there we go. everyone more or less is caught up now. i swear there will be more fluff in the next chapter. speakin of which, next chapter may take awhile to get finished. the next two weeks are finals so i wont be writing much if at all. gotta love exams that can determine whether you pass or fail a class, no matter what your previous grade was.


	10. The Second Doctor

After discussing the apparent lack of room in 'Casa de Strider,' it became apparent that they would have to split you up if they took on any of your family. Dave had argued that, after all, it was already crammed enough in the apartment with two men, two growing boys, and one man-child. The seadweller had flipped him off at that, but it seemed a friendly enough gesture between the two of them. Of course, the three of you politely (or in Kurloz's case, vehemently) decline any option where you might have to be split up. After all, you were his moirail, and Gamzee was his brother. 

One particularly nasty scene (where you were pretty sure Kurloz was going to disembowel someone) later, and it had been agreed that you were not under any circumstances to be parted from him. The receptionist from when you first arrived comes in at one point and cheerfully informs all of you that there is food to be had. All of the sudden, chairs are dragged into the room and plates balancing on knees or filing cabinets or even your bed. Whatever sort of food she made (it had rice and was deliciously spicy) was heaven compared to anything you had eaten on the road. 

Suddenly Jade turns to you, "Say, Lucky! We never even asked you guys what you wanted to do!" You blink at her for a moment and she continues, "Who would you guys like to stay with?" 

"Y-you're asking us?" you are still stunned. 

She is already nodding her head vigorously, "Of course! It's only fair! After all, we don't know how long it is going to be before we can get you guys back on your feet." You glance around to discover that everyone is looking at you expectantly. Oh no. 

You try to push the anxiety down and think through this rationally. The Strider brothers are out. They already have made it clear they have no room, and Gamzee has also made it clear he would like to slit Dave's throat. Your eyes keep skittering over to the rather menacing figure of Zahhak. Even if he had been kind when dealing with Gamzee, that was a very large man with a very large amount of muscles. Where you were from, that usually meant that the person in question was used to neutralizing threats. It was extremely hard to rationalize that Kurloz was not potentially a threat. 

You raise an eyebrow at Kurloz, and he nods. Gamzee has not even stopped eating, but he kicks your shin so you know he knows what you are thinking. You look at Jade, "Um, well... we like you best." Beside you, Kurloz gently lowers his face into his hand as his brother chokes on whatever he was shoving down his throat. You give him the best accusatory frown you can while patting his back, "What? It's true!" 

"Ouch," Dave placed a hand over his heart and tilted his chair back as if he had been struck. 

"Snubbed," agreed his brother, although his lip twitched slightly. 

"Oh my gosh that is so adorable!" squeals the woman with the massive amounts of hair. "That's okay. That just means more alone time for us." She leans in towards Zahhak, and you suddenly realize that she was probably his girlfriend. Or wife. Or whatever. That could have been a little awkward. 

"Ha! In your face, Striders!" the green-eyed girl pumps a fist in the air. "This is a great day. A momentous occasion. This is the day where a Harley is chosen before you!" Then she turns back to you, "We are going to have so much fun! I might need to run out and go get some things, but it will be awesome. You'll have to meet Bec and Jake!" Suddenly you are wondering if maybe this is not such a great idea after all. 

* * * * * 

Bec is a dog. 

Rephrase. Bec is a fucking huge dog. You are almost certain he is part wolf. There is literally no other explanation for the pointed ears and the huge size. He did not seem that fond of Kurloz at first, but after a stern word from Jade (and some rather deft maneuvering on his part) the monstrosity decided that he would not in fact devour your moirail. You would hug him for his mercy if you were not currently in said moirail's arms. Apparently it was decided that you were well enough to be moved, just not move on your own. Dr. Zahhak gave you (and Kurloz) instructions for all the pill bottles he sent you off with, explaining what they all did, and then demanded that you 'drink plenty of clear fluids and get lots of rest.' 

So, naturally, the first thing that you all do is go on a tour of the house. There is actually a guest bedroom that Jade proclaims as your own. She explains she can go out and buy a second bed tomorrow if you want. Gamzee tells her not to bother, because all three of you will probably end up on the floor in a blanket pile anyway. She laughs at this, and then she shows you to the guest bathroom, complete with a giant tub 'for giving Bec baths!' (You are so playing in that tub as soon as everyone realized you were not going to accidentally drown yourself.) The living room is comfy, with plush chairs and a huge television. The kitchen is bright and (mostly) clean, a fridge covered with pictures that make you smile. 

It felt... homey. Like people actually lived there and led normal, everyday lives. You did not realize how little you knew of normal life until you looked around the rooms again. There were no weapons openly on display or thugs lounging around as they waited for orders. As far as you can tell, there is not anything that suggests the rooms were ever damaged by explosions or bullet holes. There was not even a pool table. You wonder briefly what Jade likes to do for fun. 

In no time at all, you are tired again. There is an oxygen tank Jade insisted on bringing from the clinic, but you really do not want to use it unless you have to. After the third yawn, Kurloz promptly turns around and takes you to the guest room. He tucks you in and waits for you to fall asleep. Jade comes bustling in while you are just starting to doze off, bringing Gamzee and four mugs of hot cocoa with marshmallows. She asks if you need anything else. You shake your head, ducking under you moirail's arm in a huge burst of shyness. 

People aren't usually this nice to you. Well, occasionally there are people like the Andersons who are willing to take you in for awhile. But they make it abundantly clear that it is a temporary thing. This woman with the bright green eyes- she seems to be inviting you to stay for as long as you like. You wonder if Dave meant it when he said you guys were a part of his family now. Was Jade part of his family too? Did that make you and her family? Everything is so confusing. Eventually you nod off into your mug. 

* * * * * 

"Good morning, chaps!" a loud voice startles you out of your sleep. You almost jump out of your skin, eyes flying open to assess the threat. What you see is a man with green eyes and square glasses and buckteeth who looks a lot like Jade now that you think about it. He currently has a rather apologetic expression on his face. "Oh gosh darn it all! I'm so sorry, lad! I did not mean to startle you!" You wonder if he ever talks at a lower volume as he continues, "I was just going to inform you fine young men that there is breakfast to be had. Jade is making pancakes! If you boys want some, you should wash up!" 

"Motherfucking Hell yeah we do!" Gamzee is already slithering off the bed. You chuckle a little at his enthusiasm. The three of you manage to get your hands washed and settled at the table in what has to be record time. There are pancakes, ones with little chocolate chips added to them. There is also scrambled eggs and orange juice. Jade turns around and sees you sitting on a couple pillows, and suddenly her face goes grim. 

"Lucky! You are supposed to be in bed! Dr. Zahhak said you shouldn't move around too much!" she thumps a plate of bacon down on the table. Her face softens when she sees your expression. "I was going to have the boys bring you a tray in a moment. Honestly, you are ridiculous." 

"Um, that would be my fault, Jade," the stranger speaks up. "When you asked me to get the boys to wash up, I assumed you meant all of them!" 

"Jake," she sighs. "I just told you Lucky is supposed to be on bed rest. Like literally just told you. Right before sending you to wake up the others. Oh, right. Boys, this is my brother, Jake. Jake, this is Lucky, Kurloz, and Gamzee." After introductions, all of you dig into the delicious spread before you. You swear you can already see your smaller brother putting on some weight; his face is not quite as skull-like as you seem to remember. In no time at all, you were bundled away back to bed and told in no uncertain terms that if you got up again you would be heartily scolded. Despite this, eventually Jake lugs a television and DVD player into your room, setting everything up with a lot of enthusiasm and very little precision. 

So later Jade finds all four of you deeply engrossed in the Pirates of the Caribbean movies (you wonder where Captain Jack went during half of these movies). She joyfully joins the pile on the bed, careful not to jostle you from your protected place between Kurloz's gangly legs. After you had settled down leaning against his chest, he had drawn up his legs on either side of you, making a barrier between you and the world at large. If you had not been routinely injured by the world at large your entire life, you might have been a little annoyed. As it was, you found it kind of sweet, in a possessive kind of way. 

You wake a little later, realizing that you nodded off at some point when Elizabeth was off doing dangerous stunts for no apparent reason. Although, to be fair, that was most of the movies thus far. Everyone but Kurloz is gone, and you are certain that he is missing out on something by remaining with you. When you raise an eyebrow and poke him a few times, he merely shrugs and lazily signs with one hand that he wanted to stay. So you give up trying to get a real answer from him (which would have taken forever anyway) and simply curl yourself up under his chin. With your head on his throat, you can clearly hear the small little purring noises he cannot seem to hold back. For now, it seemed like everything was going to be okay. 

* * * * * 

"Do motherfucking _what_ now?" 

Jade places one hand on her hip, frowning slightly, "Exactly what I just said. Lucky needs to go see a doctor, so I am going to take him to the hospital and Jake is going to stay here with you two." Even though it has been over a week and the scratches have healed on her face, she is still as intimidating as before. You guess you are going to have to accept the fact that apparently size was not a requirement for using fear tactics. Looking over, you can see Kurloz shake his head once, slowly, with a rather intense expression. Oh dear. 

"Look, I understand that you do not want to be separated from Lucky," the woman is talking directly to you moirail (and it still makes you feel warm inside that she does that), "but the hospital is going to be a crowded place full of people- some of whom are probably not very well-educated when it comes to trolls. I don't want to bring you two along just to have you get sent out of the lobby to go wait in the car the entire time. Or worse- if you get us all kicked out, then Lucky won't get to see the doctor at all." 

"I don't motherfucking understand why he needs to go at all," growls Gamzee. "He's all up and motherfucking better now." 

This gives her pause for a moment, "Well, yes and no. We have taken care of his immediate medical needs, but to make sure he _stays_ better, he needs to see a doctor that has the equipment and experience to run tests. They will probably just want to take some more x-rays and some blood. There is nothing to worry about. This guy is a friend of Doctor Zahhak. Plus, I will be with him the entire time." With some grumbling and reluctant nods, your brothers finally agreed to let you go. Your moirail stares Jade in the eyes for a few moments, but you did not see any muted flashing to cause you concern. 

The next thing you know, you are in the car, watching the buildings roll by. You cannot help but be impressed at the sheer height of some of the structures. Mostly, though, you just want to see past them to gaze at the clouds. It is still cold out, even though most of the snow has melted, and the sky has been a pale grey for days now. You miss the bright blue of warmer weather. Jade breaks your melancholy thoughts by announcing that you have arrived. 

You scramble out of the backseat when she opens the door, suddenly at a loss of what to do when surrounded by a bunch of unmoving vehicles and people coming and going. Then a hand enters your field of vision, you give a small jump. Taking the woman's hand, you have no problem with her herding you along into the building. At least it seemed like no one would run you over if you were with her. She stops and talks to people every now and then, but soon enough the two of you are ushered into a medical room a lot like the one from the veterinary clinic. With a helpful boost from Jade, you are sitting on the weird reclined chair that you suppose is the equivalent of Zahhak's metal examination table. Strangely you do not find it any more comfortable. 

The doctor comes in and asks questions and pokes and prods you, but it was mostly just a repeat of what Zahhak had already done. He already has some papers of test results from the blood the veterinarian had taken. You were really beginning to wonder why Jade was so insistent that you see another doctor. In fact, you had started to drift off, lazily thinking about whether or not you would get to pick the movie tonight, when suddenly the green-eyed woman practically explodes. 

"What do you mean, mental retardation?!" she almost screams. You almost flinch right off the chair in response, but neither adult is looking at you. 

The doctor is holding up his hands in a placating manner, "I need an MRI to be sure, but I am fairly certain that Lucky has a tumor in his anterior pituitary. His hormone levels are shockingly low. Some of the side effects of the lack of hormones are delay of puberty, stunting of growth, exercise intolerance, cold intolerance... and mental lethargy and cretinism. What I am trying to say is that even with hormonal therapy, not everything will improve. Damage done to his under-stimulated neurons cannot be reversed." 

Okay, you could admit that a lot of that went over your head, but none of it sounded good. Especially the retard part. You had been around Eggs and Biscuits enough to know what that meant. Part of you wonders if that is why Gamzee gives you those sort of hard-pity looks like he is debating whether or not to put you out of your misery whenever you ask dumb questions. The other part of you quails at the thought of being as bad as those two idiots. 

"I'll have you know that this boy took it upon himself to teach two trolls how to read and write, as well as perform basic mathematics," the girl is not quite snarling, but pretty close to it. "I've seen college kids with less of a grasp on critical thinking and grammar than him. Yeah, sometimes it can take him a moment to process things, but he is far from unintelligent!" 

The doctor (you think his name was Jones) looks a little relieved at this news, "That is precisely why he needs treatment! It is not about 'fixing' anything as much as making it easier on him. Although, we really do need to at least monitor the tumor and make sure that it is benign." At this, Jade paled a little. She glances over to you as if just realizing that you were indeed still in the room. Your mind is whirling. 

"So... I-I maybe have cancer?" you hadn't meant the last word to come out as almost a squeak, but it did. 

"No, probably not," he assures you. "We just have to cover our bases for your symptoms. Was it always so hard for you to concentrate?" 

You try to think back, "Yes and, uh, no? For awhile...it was a bit w-worse." 

He frowns slightly at this, "When was this?" 

"Um," you suddenly remember that you are not supposed to tell anyone about the drugs. That was like the number one rule when it came to drugs. You were not supposed to talk about them at all. In fact, you knew Kurloz would be upset that you were even thinking about them. Your distress kicked up a few notches as you considered what your brothers would have to say about this moment. 

"Was it while you were... with English?" Jade prompts. You gulp convulsively, not trusting your voice. Instead, you give a hesitant nod. 

The doctor turns back to your momentary defender, "I only have the bare bones of what his situation was from Zahhak, but this is not uncommon. Stress levels can greatly affect the production of growth hormone. I suggest that after we confirm with imaging-" You drown him out, the relief rushing through you and making your ears ring. When you had to go lie down in a tube and stay still, you considered that getting off light compared with what could have happened. Then there were more questions. Except these ones were kind of vague and as time went on the green-eyed woman looked uneasier and uneasier. 

"Did English ever touch you?" the question was slipped in so subtly that you would not have thought anything of it if not for the harsh intake of breath from your left. You tried to think of how the question would have upset her, but it sounded pretty standard to you. 

You raise an eyebrow, "Not really? H-he... threw an alarm clock at me once. Heh. Stitch said I had a concussion." 

Although his eyebrows raise just a bit, he presses forward, "What about this Stitch, then?" 

You start to frown a little, "Well, yeah. He patched us up. And he made our duds." Your inflection was one of mild surprise and just a hint of disbelief. When their faces started to do weird things, you clarified, "Heh. Stitch was the tailor... and medic." 

"Um, okay then," the doctor in question shoots Jade a confused glance.

"What about the others that lived there?" she grimaces even as she asks, as if not really wanting to give Doctor Jones (you were just going to assume that was his name until someone corrected you) more ammunition. 

"I-I got beat up a lot. 'Cause I'm so little... mostly Fin and Trace. Itchy sometimes, too. Um..." You really wish they had not gone there. You were not quite sure what they were fishing for, and there had been so many times you were a punching bag. But they had asked about it in a weird way. Touch. Not hurt or injured. A strange sort of thought began to form in your head. "I'm... not sure... what you are asking?" 

"Did any of the adults try to engage you in... sexual intercourse of any kind? Was there any unwanted touching or anything of that nature?" the doctor fumbles over his words as if his tongue is thick. 

You blink. Your mind slowly processes the hasty words. Then you frown and blink again, "Sex? Y-you're asking about _sex_? You could have... just said that in the first place. Uh, no. None of the guys... no. Just... no." You are pretty sure your face is grimacing, because just the thought of one of the guys trying to- well, it was just distasteful. Jade looks relieved in ways that suggest she had been dreading your response. 

"Are you sure?" Doctor Jones presses. 

You almost snort, "Hee hee hee. Uh, yeah. I mean... Fin got d-drunk and hit on me. Once. Cans punched him through a wall." You decide to leave out the part where Quarters, backed by a nod from Crowbar, had threatened that anyone who tried something like that again would get filled with lead. Considering the giant had just gotten a new minigun, everyone thought it wise to heed that warning. To be fair, that was the only time you had noticed if anyone had hit on you, and it was probably only because of the violent reaction Cans had to it. Most of that stuff tended to fly over your head. 

The doctor looks like he wants to say something else, but Jade cuts him off in a clipped tone, "We really cannot stay much longer. Do you have everything you need from Lucky?" 

"Uh, sure," he recovers quickly. "We have enough for now. I am going to prescribe some medications, and I would like to see him back in a month if there are no complications. We can do another MRI then and check for any growth." He prattles on, but you honestly stopped caring about as soon as he implied you were free to go. In no time at all, Jade has you bundled back into the backseat and on your way back home. Or so you thought. You blink at the building she has pulled in front of. It looked cheery and bright and so colorful. It was like a rainbow had decided to make a place to live. 

"Come on, Lucky," she opens your door for you. "We're going to get some frozen yoghurt." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being so patient with me on updates everyone!! finals were murder but i made it through with decent grades and thats all that matters.
> 
> sorry about the semi-medical stuff, but in my headcannon a humanstuck!!clover would have pituitary dwarfism. i swear the next chapter will be mostly fluff!!


	11. The Park

You are happily perched on a stool, your legs dangling in the air as you dig in to the dessert monstrosity Jade had allowed you to create. Apparently 'all doctor visits should be followed with a treat!' and you were not going to argue because frozen yoghurt was like tangy ice cream in a million flavors with even more different kinds of toppings. You extract her promise that next time your brothers can come as well. Gamzee would especially love the rainbow motif. 

"Listen, Lucky," she begins, toying with her quickly melting globs of sugary goodness. "I'm sorry about all the questions. It's just that, you know, a kid in your kind of position... well, let's just say I'm glad that you seem to have come out of everything more or less okay."

You blink at her a few times, "I'm always going to be okay. Don't you know? I'm too lucky to get hurt too badly." 

"Oh yeah?" she raises an eyebrow. "What about pneumonia? Or getting mugged? Or having your house burn down? Those things don't really sound all that lucky." 

"Sure they were!" you giggle. "If they hadn't happened, I never would have gotten to meet you! Or Jake! Or the Strider brothers! Or Dr. Zahhak, even though he is sometimes scary! Or-" 

"Okay, okay!" she holds up her hands in defeat. "I get the idea." 

"Besides, there are three kinds of luck anyway," you slurp down another spoonful. 

"Three?" asks Jade. "I know there is good luck and bad luck, but what is the third one?" 

"Hard luck! That's the one I have the most of!" you announce. "At least, according to Quarters." 

"I've been meaning to ask about that," she muses. "What are with the weird names? They sound like lame codenames for spies from one of John's movies or something. And also, why do you bring them up so often?" 

"Hey, our names are just fine!" you pout. "They had something to do with numbers, but most of the time I have no idea what they are referring to. And I don't bring them up all that often. Just... when I'm missing them, I guess." 

She frowns at this, "But didn't you three run away because of how bad it was there? Why would you miss those guys?" 

At this you stall for a moment, "Well... I guess I only really miss some of them, but they kind of come in a unit. I can't miss just Quarters and Cans and Crowbar and Matchsticks and Snowman." She flinches at the name of the woman member, but you continue on, "And Sawbuck! Everyone likes Sawbuck! Well, I guess liked. Kurloz says he got stabbed." 

"Wait, what?" 

"Uh..." 

"I thought that the people you left behind were in a burning building? What's this about being stabbed?" she is piercing you with those bright green eyes that look a lot like Calliope's own. 

"They were? I mean it was? Hee hee hee. Um, it was set on fire? By the bad men. Well, I guess they were bad men. Heh. I don't really know, since the crew wasn't really all that good themselves," you fumble over your words. "They also exploded some stuff. And maybe shot some people. According to Gamzee." Her flabbergasted expression only served to confuse you more, "Didn't you know?" 

* * * * *

"Why didn't you boys just _say_ something?" Jade questions for the third time. 

"You never motherfucking asked about it!" snaps Gamzee, already annoyed to the breaking point. Upon the moment Jade called an emergency meeting and gathered everyone at her house, the two purplebloods became suspicious. That suspicion quickly turned to guarded rage and fear when the accusatory questions began. Cronus literally had to leave the house 'for some fresh air' because he kept jumping into a defensive stance each time the boys freaked out. 

"Sorry we never asked whether or not the house fire was actually arson," Dirk does a good job of giving the impression he is rolling his eyes despite the shades hiding them, "but were we honestly supposed to guess that you three were involved in some sort of tragic shootout gone wrong?" Kurloz growls from where he is seated next to the younger Strider, but with you in his lap he is more concerned with protecting than attacking. Luckily (heh), you had foreseen that your shooshpapping ability would be needed for this meetup. You are the best moirail, it is you. 

"Alright, found it!" announces Dave as he pulls up the news article on Jade's laptop. You sense rather than see everyone gathering around to peek at the screen as he exclaims, "Oh my God." There in black and white is your former home in all its squalid ostentatious glory. You are somewhat sad that the 'dog house' is not in the picture. Nor can you see Calliope's room. In fact, there was very little to suggest that there was anyone living there at all. 

"Isn't that the English mansion?" Zahhak's voice drips of disapproval. "Wait. English. The guy who bought Clo-er, Lucky. As in Lord English the mafia boss?" You can feel everyone staring at the top of your head. Your moirail's growl has developed into a full-on snarl. You pap his thigh for lack of being able to reach anything else at the moment. 

"You heard about this?" the younger blonde leans over so Jade can get a better view of the screen. 

"I remember something of it, yes," admits the doctor. "It was quickly written off as a war between two rival families called the Felt and the Midnight Crew. It was somewhat scandalous when Lord English was confirmed as the head of the Felt." 

"Fucking hell," breathes the older blonde somewhere over your head. "Are you reading this? There were multiple reports of several loud explosions. Police that arrived on the scene found a raging inferno and there were still shots being fired. The whole place was razed to the ground." 

"How do you motherfucking raise something down?" Gamzee finally clambers onto Kurloz's lap to sit next to you. There is a familiarity of the three of you huddling together for protection that feels like nostalgia. 

"R-A-Z-E. It means to burn," corrects Jade absentmindedly. "This changes everything. I mean, what are we going to do about that missing person's report? Obviously that means that _someone_ survived long enough to notice these three had run off instead of gotten killed." 

"I don't know that there is anything we can do," Zahhak sighs. "If we go to the police with what we have now, Lucky would probably get put into witness protection and the trolls..." 

"Police impound," Dave bites out the words like they physically pain him. When he glances sideways at you, the angle is just right for you to see his red eyes. You flinch away because of the color, not the expression. Although the crimson reminds you of the Boss and Caliborn, you have never seen that particular emotion displayed in them. It was something close to fear. 

"No, we aren't doing that," Jade speaks with finality. 

"Quite right!" Jake chips in. "The best place for these lads is still with us!" 

"While I agree that Lucky should remain here for emotional as well as medical reasons-" Zahhak cuts off suddenly when you give a loud squeak and attempt to bury yourself into your moirail's chest. In a literal flash, Kurloz has picked you and Gamzee up and carried you across the room. You shudder a few times, trying to get the image out of your head. On the screen is a picture of none other than the Boss himself, looking straight at the camera and pissed beyond all reason. You could swear that his red eyes were glowing with rage. 

* * * * * 

"Come on chaps, you have to come down _sometime_ ," whines Jake, peering up at you anxiously. You giggle like a madman as you hop from one branch to another. Although Jade lives on the outer edge of the city, her yard is still pretty small. It made up for the fact with the three awesomely large trees Gamzee had just helped you climb. Now the two of you are playing an insane game of tag, weaving up and over and around tree limbs until your head spins. 

Jade says that now you have been on your medication for a little while, you are starting to see relief from some of the symptoms. Something about lack of growth hormone leading to lethargy. All you know is that Jake had snuck you both cookies earlier, and now all you wanted to do is run and run and run until your stubby legs gave out. The lack of room to do so drove you and your younger brother to think a bit innovatively with the space you did have. 

"Lucky! Lucky, do a motherfucking cartwheel!" Gamzee eggs you on. Even as you hear the man below bellowing that it was a bad idea, you are eyeing the large limb about four feet below the one you are currently on. It looks straight enough. With a little hop, you are there. With two steps of a running start, you twist and the world spins around you again and again. Then suddenly there is a bump and with a surprised yelp you are scrambling for a hold as the limb rushes by you. 

"Oof!" you land on something giving, which you realize after a moment is your moirail. "Thanks Loz!" The look he gives you is withering disapproval. You sort of hunch up and mutter an apology out of reflex. He shifts you to one arm and bounces you once to let you know that you are not in _that_ much trouble. 

"Aw, don't up and ruin all the fun, bro!" Gamzee swings back and forth just out of reach. The older purpleblood snaps his finger and then points down, serious as a funeral. His brother scrambles to comply, knowing that sometimes you just cannot argue with six feet of lanky troll and another foot and a half of horns. Maybe you two are in that much trouble after all. 

"Bully for you, Kurloz!" the green-eyed boy grins as he jogs over. "They won't listen to a blasted thing I say. Where were you about three minutes ago?" 

Your moirail shrugs, miming the opening of a book. You wonder why he does not just put you down when he signs. It certainly would make it a lot easier on him. However, you suppose that a lot of it has to do with size. Even when standing on tiptoe, you are barely tall enough to come up to most people's waists. This makes conversations somewhat awkward for you, if people even decide to acknowledge you in the first place. At least if Kurloz is holding you, you can actually see people more or less eye-to-eye. Maybe he is just trying to be thoughtful and include you in the talk. (Nevermind, Kurloz was once again the best moirail. You accept this fact with glee.) 

"You two are getting a bit restless being cooped up in the house all the time, huh?" Jake regains your attention. "I know it's hard when I have to go watch the other kids, but there just is not enough room for all of you in the Strider apartment. Maybe tomorrow we can all go to the park!" 

"Motherfucking Hell yes!" cheers Gamzee, forgetting completely that the two of you are still probably in trouble. 

"You would have to be on your best behavior," warns the man. "And I will also have to consult the Striders and make sure that it is okay. But between me and Kurloz we should be able to keep the four of you under control. Make that the five of you. I'm sure Cronus will want to tag along." 

"Tag along where?" Jade is approaching, having apparently walked out the open back door without any of you noticing. 

"Jade, Jade, Jade!" you wiggle in Kurloz's arms until he grudgingly sets you down so you can run circles around her. "We're going to the park!" 

"You are?" she glances at her brother, who sighs exasperatedly. "Well, you won't be going anywhere if you three have not finished your lessons." You freeze at the same time your younger brother does, the two of you staring at each other for a moment. 

"Aw, motherfuck!" Gamzee turns tail and runs back into the house. 

"He hasn't been doing any of the maths all week," you cheerfully inform her before following him. You actually still have not gotten around to your handouts for today. Normally you finished them in the morning, but instead the three of you had built a pillow fort and watched movies until Jake arrived. With cookies. The rest of that thought is kind of a sugary blur. You kind of hope that your handouts are not anything too tedious; otherwise you will likely just fall asleep again. 

* * * * * 

When you arrive at the park with Jake, the Strider kids are already there. The littlest one has eyes that make you slightly uneasy, although you cannot say why. He is amusingly about your size. The other one is a bit taller, closer to Gamzee than you, and thin as a rail. He also is a psionic. Something about him makes your moirail get really quiet and sad, probably because the kid reminds him of his old moirail. You spend about ten minutes trying to soothe him, but in the end he just waves you off and goes to sit next to Jake on the park bench. 

You glance around. Cronus is leaning against a nearby tree, looking bored out of his mind. The kid with the lisp who caused Kurloz's meltdown is quietly swinging back and forth. Gamzee is pushing Karkat on the swings, having taken an instant liking to the tiny troll. You try not to feel miffed about someone else getting all the attention. Thankfully just actually playing on a real playground is a wonderful distraction. You walk back and forth on the teeter-totter, thinking all the while. 

You had never been to a playground before. At the mansion, you had hardly ever left the premises, and when you did it was always on business. There was no time to let a kid run around an unsecured area for shits and giggles. Even before then, from what you can remember, there was not much time to actually be a kid. You remember a little better these days, probably due to being clean and on proper medication. You can remember a tired-looking woman whose expression hardened whenever her gaze fell on you. You remember a dingy, small apartment that seemed to be perpetually dark and usually empty. You remember loneliness that slowly seeped into your bones, forming you into a guarded child sure that he was meant to be alone. 

With a start, you realize that you barely recognize that child. You had a family now. Maybe it was small and a little broken, but it was still good. You are the little blue alien. It is you. Instead of sisters you had found brothers that took you in and made you somehow better than you used to be. Your alien aunt and uncle were Jake and Jade. The agent with the sunglasses was Dr. Zahhak. The Strider brothers you guess were somewhat left out, but that was okay. It just meant your family was even bigger. Possibly a bit more dysfunctional as well. You watch Cronus giving a smarmy smile to Kurloz, who simply gives a sadistic grin and sends the other troll scampering. Definitely more dysfunctional. 

"Lucky come play?" a hand tugs at your coat sleeve. 

You turn to look at the boy, right in the eyes, "Yeah, sure." 

"Good to have family," he nods sagely, pausing to glance over all of the members scattered around the playground area. When he looks back at you, you could swear there was something glimmering red in them, "You stay. You keep family. Stay." 

After a moment, you find your voice again, "Of course I'm going to stay! I'm never going to leave Loz and Gam. They're... they're my brothers. They're the best." 

"Best," he agrees as if you have just signed some sort of legal document. "Come play!" All at once, he is a regular kid again, demanding that you go spin on the merry-go-round with him. Kurloz finally obliges and spins it for you, all of you piled on and holding onto the bars. 

* * * * * 

What had begun as a one-time meetup quickly became a bi-weekly affair. Jake and Kurloz and sometimes Cronus would come and watch over you and the kids as you all played. It was wonderfully refreshing to have something to do besides sit around in the house all day, and Gamzee in particular had become attached to little Karkat. Today Kurloz and Cronus had come to watch over you, as Jake was needed to drive people around for something. Although neither of them much cared for one another, they managed to sit on opposite sides of a bench and not try to kill each other. 

The main problem were the other patrons of the playground area. While some had gotten used to seeing your group romping around on the equipment, others were not. You wish you were not clearheaded enough to notice the women who turned up their noses at your group, or the ones whose mouths fell open and quickly wheeled their baby strollers further away. In the end it was inevitable that someone would come say something. 

"Excuse me, but you do realize that this is a play area for children, right?" one frumpy woman approached you as you hung on the monkey bars. She has a disgruntled kid in one hand and a hold on her shoulder bag with her other. The child looks like she just wants to go play, but her mother is holding on to her hand tightly. 

You drop to the ground, "Um, yeah?" Gamzee and Karkat are already beside you, and you can see Sollux putting down his book to slowly approach from the corner of your eye. 

"Then why do you see fit to bring your pets with you?" her hand was on her hip, fingers tapping. 

"Pets?" you blink at her in confusion. Sollux has joined your little group and is attempting to grab Karkat's hand and lead him away from the confrontation. The younger troll is not having any of it; he wants to see what is going on. 

"Your trolls," she huffs, obviously annoyed. "This is not a dog park." 

"They aren't dogs!" you exclaim, too surprised and upset to even chuckle. "And they are not pets either! This is my brother!" You reach out blindly and Gamzee grasps your hand, a show of solidarity. 

You can literally see her distaste as she pinches her lips together, "A troll is a troll, no matter what you want to call it. I cannot believe that your parents would see fit to let their child run around with a pack of mangy animals. For that matter, where are they?" 

"Excuse me, ma'am," Cronus is suddenly there, Kurloz beside him. "I think that there must be some sort of misunderstandin' is all. We come here pretty regular with the kids." 

You can see the lady eyeing your moirail's sheer size, the long wavy horns on the top of his head. She edges a few steps away, "I find that hard to believe. There are signs posted all over the park against bringing pets onto the premises." 

"See, that's where you are misunderstandin'," he continues as calmly as ever, but his eyes narrow dangerously. "We ain't pets of anybody." 

Her eyes jump from Kurloz's intense frown to Cronus's shark-tooth smile to your huddled group of kids, "B-But then... that must mean that you are all ferals!" 

"We ain't ferals, either," he widens the smile, probably just to see her flinch. "We're free trolls." 

"Hey, what's wrong, Sollux?" a little girl totters over from the slide. You are just now realizing that you have quite the audience now. Several children have wandered over to see what the fuss is, and more than one parent has approached as well. 

"I still demand that you all leave," the woman recovers. "Free trolls or not. You are not people!" 

"How so?" you cross your arms. 

"Excuse me?" she rounds on you, and you are very proud that you do not even flinch backwards. You have faced down scarier people than her in situations a lot more threatening. She is simply an uneducated bigot. She is half the size of people you routinely had to deal with on a daily basis. You doubt she is even packing heat. 

"How are they not people?" you ask her. "What are your criteria? Their appearance? The color of their skin? Their different culture? The fact that you don't understand them?" You hear someone break into surprised laughter and quickly attempt to cover it with a cough, "How are they not people?" 

"They're _trolls_ ," she almost snarls. "They can't be people!" 

"Well, they are. If you don't like it, you don't have to play here," you dismiss her with wave of your hand. You turn to Gamzee, about to ask if he would like to go to the climbing fort. 

"Listen here, you little shit!" fingers dig into your shoulder to whirl you around. Before she can get any further, a rather loud growl interrupts her. Everyone's head whips around to see your moirail, eyes blazing and hands balled into fists. For some reason when he is angry he seems to be able to make himself appear even larger than normal. The air around him seems darker somehow and you can practically feel the waves of negative energy coming off him. Now is one of those times. 

"Lady, I would suggest gettin' your hands off the kid," Cronus shoves his hands into his pockets. "Seein' as how this guy is a feral and all." 

"Are you threatening me?" she hisses. You flinch as her fingernails cut into your skin through your shirt. 

"Excuse me, ma'am," a young father has come forward from the throng of enthralled watchers. "The man is right; this has gone far enough. Let the kid go." Her eyes dart around so you glance up as well. The three women you see have disapproving expressions, and the children look a mixture of frightened and slightly upset. 

"Fine," she straightens, letting go of you so suddenly that you rock back on your heels. "Let's go, Sally." She turns and drags her little girl away, not even looking back. Before she is even out of earshot, the other adults begin to murmur amongst themselves over her improper attitude. The instant she is a good distance away, Kurloz kneels and holds his arms out. You obligingly step forward and enter them so he can pick you up and check your shoulder for damage. Although not pleased about the slight crescents from her nails, he is satisfied that there is no blood. The murmuring in the background disorients you. 

"-picking on a kid like that!" 

"-obviously a service troll-" 

"-see how he fussed over him?" 

"-doesn't matter. It was rude no matter what you call them." 

"Are you alright?" one of the women asks, giving you something to focus your attention on. You nod. Cronus attempts to hit on her, but she is already walking away with her two children in tow. 

"Little James here talks about you kids all the time," the man who previously interfered gestures to his son. You recognize him as the one that often tags along behind your group, playing follow the leader. "We come here all the time just so he can play with you guys." 

"Sollux, you left your book," the little girl tries once again to get the psionic's attention. As if by magic, everyone suddenly relaxes and goes back to what they were doing. Kurloz puts you down so you can rejoin the group, and he and the seatroll return to their spot on the benches. Within moments it is as if the whole episode never occurred. Except maybe the people were a little more friendly and inviting to the trolls. You could be mistaken about that, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gah!! i did not even realize it had been so long since i last posted a chapter. i will try to be more diligent on getting these out in a reasonable amount of time. 
> 
> in other news we are gettin closer to the end of the story. im not exactly sure how many more chapters there will be, but i am thinkin three or four. there is still plenty of plot to go, though, so i may stretch it out a bit. we will see how it goes


	12. The Email

One of the definite benefits of seeing the rest of the Strider family so often is getting to hang out with Cronus. Even though Kurloz and Gamzee clearly did not think much of him, you found his one-liners amusing and his flirtatious attitude more of a mystery than an annoyance. Besides, you still tired out easier than the younger kids and often could not keep up with their swift strides anyways. Instead of playing by yourself you would tag along with Cronus as he attempted to hit on everyone in sight. At first he was less than thrilled about you following him around, but after several women stopped to ask him if he was your babysitter or your service troll or one of your 'big brothers' he quickly changed his mind.

"So why _do_ you hit on everyone?" you ask after he plops down on the bench beside you, obviously dejected from the latest rejection.

"What's it to you, Shrimp?" he snorts, eyeing you from the side. "Wait. You're eighteen, ain't you?"

"Nineteen," you correct him. "Why?"

He opens his mouth and then closes it again, frowning heavily as he thinks. Then he tries again, "Ah, nevermind, kid. I don't think you're my type anyway."

"What do you mean by type?" you swing your legs back and forth. "Is that what Kurloz was talking about when he said your type was 'anything with a pulse' yesterday?"

"Eh? He did not!" blushes the seatroll as he gapes at you. "Why the nerve of that guy!"

"You never said what it meant," you nudge his calf with your foot.

"Look, I don't see why you want to know all of the sudden why I like talking to all the single ladies and gents," he huffs. "It's not like you could possibly want any tips to improve your game."

"Game?" you perk up instantly. "So it's like a game then? Is that why you have all those great things you tell people when you do the eyebrow wiggle?"

"When I do the wh- wait did you say great?"

"Yeah! I like all those things you say when you meet people. Some of them are really funny. Like 'Is there a mirror in your pocket, because I can see myself in your pants.' or 'Did it hurt when you fell down from Heaven?' or the one about the elephant tr-"

"Okay no, gotta stop you there kiddo," he interrupts. "Can't have you stealin all of my material. But you... you actually like all those?"

"Well some of them seem a little silly to me," you muse, "but I guess that's because I didn't know it was a game. Like it's a kind of code where you have to figure out the meaning. I guess that makes them more like riddles. I love riddles! Could you teach me to play?"

" _You_ want _me_ to teach you _pickup lines_?" he raises one of his eyebrows in the way you are starting to associate with the Striders. "Well, I guess I don't have anythin better to do. Have you been payin attention to all the different ones I've been usin here at the park?"

You nodnodnod, "Yep! And I noticed that every single one of them is different. You sure must have a lot."

"The wonderful variety of life is what keeps the world goin," he replies. "Okay, the first thing we gotta sort out is that you can't hit on whoever I'm hittin on. Or whoever I might be hittin on in a few minutes. But basically everyone else is game. Even those poor sods who passed up _this_." He gestures in a motion that you suppose is meant to emphasize all of him. "Say, what even is your type, kid? You didn't strike me as the pansexual type."

"I don't know if I have a type," you answer honestly, seeing as how you still were not sure what that even was referring to.

"That's cool, I can understand that," he is already glancing about, looking for his next.... victim? Co-player? You were not quite sure how to refer to them since you now know it is a game. He spots a young man approaching the benches with a book in hand, "There we go. Now watch and learn, Small-fry." He saunters over to the brunet, "Hey, baby. Are you an alien? Because you are outta this world." Besides a small huff, there was no indication that the man even heard him as he settles on the bench and opens his book. Ear fins drooping, Cronus hunches a bit to shove his hands into his pockets.

You pass Cronus to stand next to the guy's knee, "Wha'cha reading?"

He glances down at you, before turning back to his book, "It's a fiction novel, but it is a bit wordy for someone your age."

"You sure it's not a romance novel? Because I can see you and me on the cover." When he looks again, you do the eyebrow wiggle. After a second of indecision, he suddenly snorts back some laughter.

"Oh my God," he chuckles as he closes his novel. "Wow. Okay, kid. Did this guy put you up to this?" He points a finger towards Cronus, "I've heard about him from the other parents. No matter how cute you try to be, I'm not going to go out with him. Yeah, you." He starts talking to the sea troll directly, "Sorry, dude. I've got a wife and two kids and not even an inkling of interest in some teenage punk who likes to sexually harass people at the park when he's supposed to be babysitting."

"Sheesh, you didn't have to be so harsh about it," pouts the violetblood. "We was just playin a little game, that's all. C'mon, Sharkbait. Let's go." He reaches out blindly for your hand and you turn towards him, but then you hesitate at the last second.

You turn to look at the man, "You sure you-?"

"Lucky!" interrupts Cronus. You give a small jump and grab his hand, letting him pull you along back towards your own bench. Perhaps sometimes the game was best played when you knew when to give up.

* * * * *

"Who put pictures of Lucky online?" Dave yells as he storms into the house. You literally flinch right off the stool you had been sitting on, cards flying in every direction. Before you even hit the ground, he is scooping you back up and muttering an apology. As used to others flashstepping as you are, you wish that occasionally people would stop doing things like that so suddenly. Normally a burst of loud noise and rapid movement in the mansion were caused by either large men about to wreck shit or someone opening fire- neither of which are particularly pleasant.

Doctor Zahhak looks confused as he folds his hand, "What pictures are you referring to? As far as I understood, we were leaving Lucky and the boys off of our website in light of the circumstances behind their former home."

"We did," nods the other Strider as he hands you back your cards. "Which is why I am wondering why I found a couple pictures of Lucky playing with Karkat on our site. Several people have inquired as to who our 'adorable ginger kid' is."

"That's not even what I'm worried about," Dave frowns at his brother. "I just got the creepiest email. From someone who claims to know Lucky." It takes a moment for the meaning of that sentence to catch up to you, but once it does, you are trembling in terror. There are very few people who even knew of your existence, and almost every single one of them were members of the Felt.

"What kind of motherfucking creepy email?" Gamzee's eyes are narrowed slits, and you know that dark look all too well.

"What's with the yelling?" interrupts Jade as she enters from the kitchen area, Kurloz close behind her.

"Someone put a picture of Lucky up on our site sometime in the last couple days, and we now have a flood of messages about him," summarizes Dirk. "Including an email from someone who might know him."

"But that... wouldn't that mean...?" she trails off, still trying to register the threat. "Who the Hell put pictures on the site? The only ones who have access would be all of us!"

"Where's the fire, gents?" Jake comes down from upstairs, emerald eyes crinkling at his joke.

"Jake," Jade's eyes suddenly take on a harsh glint. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about those pictures of Lucky on the website, would you?"

"Oh, those?" he shrugs. "I think I put them up a few days ago. Dirk was saying that we needed more pictures of kids to appeal to the family-friendly side or something." You watch the elder Strider brother softly groan and rub his forehead.

"Yeah, except that we are supposed to be keeping Lucky's location on the down low," explains the younger brother, "not broadcasting it where anyone with an internet connection can find him. And someone did find him, pretty quickly too. Sent us a nice email asking about how to reach him."

"Someone like..." his eyes dart between you and the Strider brothers. "You can't mean...?"

"We don't know for sure, but there is a good chance it is one of the Felt members," states the pointy-shades blonde. "They want to talk to 'Clover English' and state something about being a family friend."

There is a slight pause where everyone seems to digest this information. By now, Kurloz has picked you up and begun purring softly, distressed because of your fear. You take a deep breath to steady yourself and look over at your younger brother. He is hissing softly but is not angry enough to do something rash yet. The others are moving on to talking about how to deal with the anonymous message.

"-just ignore it, they might try something more drastic," the veterinarian's eyebrows are raised high above his glasses. "It is not as if the location of the clinic is hard to find, and they will know that Lucky is in the area at least."

"But our houses are not listed anywhere," defends Jade. "The Striders made sure of that so they and the kids would never get harassed. As long as we keep them away from the clinic, there's not much they can do."

"Yeah, except in this case the law is on their side when it comes to the trolls," points out Zahhak. "They are still considered stolen property under the current law."

"There was no indication that the poster knew that the boys were with Lucky," Dave assures them. "All the guy asked about was him. If we knew how to get in contact with him and whatnot."

"Wh-what if I talked to him?" you offer before even realizing you were speaking. Everyone turns to stare at you.

"Oh no, Lucky!" Jade soothes. "We would never ask you to do that!"

"Actually," Zahhak is rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Doctor Zahhak!" snaps the green-eyed woman.

"Maybe it is a hoax," muses Dave aloud. "And if it is, Lucky would be the only one who could tell if it was one of the Felt members or not. And if it is one of them, maybe we can get some incriminating messages or something that can cover our asses in case they do actually try anything."

"Hold on just a minute, chaps," Jake is holding up his hands. "I am with Jade here. I don't know if allowing him to chat with this suspected gang member is such a great idea. I mean, devil-fucking dickens! What if the poor lad gives away something that _could_ be tracked to here?"

"Then we do it through the computer, where we can all be right there with him the entire time," the older Strider crosses his arms. "I don't see this just magically going away on its own. At least if we are involved in the conversation, we can hopefully prevent anything from getting out of hand."

* * * * *

"I can't believe you had Pesterchum account and never used it," Dave snorts as you log in to your account for the second time ever. "I'm still trying to decide if that counts as ironic or not."

"Interesting chumhandle, Lucky," notes Dirk.

You nervously grin at him, "Callie helped me set everything up, but it just seemed like a waste of time. It's not like I really had anyone to talk to online." As if to prove the point, the only contact you had (Calliope's own chumhandle) is currently grayed out. You try not to feel disappointed about this fact. Within moments, the ping of someone starting a conversation is heard. You watch the chat box pop up with a certain amount of dread.

\- - 0bscure6lackmagic [ 06 ] began pestering 0pportune4ccident [ 04 ] - -

06: Oh, it looks like you are already online.

06: Hello, Clover. How are you doing?

04: um, okay i guess.

06: I am glad to hear that.

06: Even though I suppose you never really thought much of me. I was gone quite frequently.

"Do you even know who this is?" Dave's voice causes you to jump a little. You had almost completely forgotten that the two Strider brothers were even there.

"Um, maybe?" you pull a face at the screen. "I didn't exactly talk to the guys online, and it's, heh, kinda hard to tell without a voice. And some of them weren't around a whole lot." You frown at the weird chumhandle and wonder if you actually might have an idea of his identity. Whoever it is, he is still typing.

06: Provided, of course, that you are even Clover.

06: I would not 6e surprised if I was the victim of some sort of hoax.

06: This kind of thing happens quite frequently to me, you see.

"Whoa, he sure tried to turn the tables quick," notes Dave.

"He's wanting some kind of proof that you are actually who you say you are," prompts Dirk.

04: i go by lucky now.

You sense the two brothers lowering their faces to their waiting hands upon reading your reply. Somehow you are very glad that it is just the two of them with you and your green laptop at the public library. It would have been way worse if Gamzee was with you. Kurloz and the Harley's had been against the whole idea from the beginning, so they had remained home as well.

06: I see.

06: Please forgive my earlier transgression, in that case.

04: oh no, you're okay! it kind of happens a lot.

06: Ah. Well then.

06: I do not know how to put this except 6luntly, so I shall.

06: In the event that this is some kind of false lead or hoax, I have not mentioned anything a6out this conversation or the previous email to the others.

06: I do not want to get certain mem6ers' hopes up. Hope is a very fickle thing, after all. And it can 6e dangerous if given too much value.

"Wow, he really is a dreary sort of guy, huh?" the younger blonde nudges your shoulder with his elbow lightly.

"Oh, I think I know who this is," you practically whisper to yourself. "Uh.... except I thought he was dead."

04: i really hope you don't take this the wrong way, but are you die?

06: Oh goodness, I never introduced myself! And with these silly online names it must have confused you. How rude of me.

06: I am indeed Die.

04: sorry, it's just....

06: You thought I was dead, didn't you?

06: I keep getting that reaction. The pun has started to wear rather thin.

"Wait, this guy's name is actually Die?" Dave raises a single eyebrow above his shades. "I thought that the lame codenames were something that you kids came up with."

You are shaking your head, "Everyone has a weird name they have to- had to- use in the mansion. We weren't even supposed to tell each other our normal names. Except, 'course, I don't even remember mine. Unless 'kid' really was my name." You feel one of the brothers awkwardly pat your shoulder as you type out a reply.

04: so.... now what?

06: I am still unconvinced that you are indeed Clover.

04: okay, so you want me to.... tell you about stuff i would know?

06: Sure, that is one way of putting it.

04: well, you were gone a lot, but i remember you had your creepy voodoo dolls that we got in trouble for stealing. even though they obviously are fake, because mine had like a million pins in it.

06: Um.

06: That was mostly 6ecause it never seemed to work. Not 6ecause I did not enjoy your company.

04: okay, sure. but aren't voodoo dolls 4 killing people?

06: Mostly just wishful thinking to get rid of the more annoying members of the crew.

06: Not that you were annoying!

06: Oh dear......

"Okay, this guy sounds like a total creep," Dave monotones, but somehow manages to impart some concern into his words anyway. "I am slightly impressed that you turned out as good as you did with guys like this as your role models."

You scrunch up your nose, "Uh, no. Not Die. Maybe Quarters and Crowbar. Or Cans. Minus the punching people through walls bit. That's a little rude."

06: Okay, I can 6elieve that you may 6e Clover.

06: Oh goodness! Everyone will 6e so excited.

You freeze, staring wide-eyed at the screen. With very little resistance, you allow Dave to take over the keyboard.

04: uh, what everyone????

06: Why, the crew, of course. Minus those that are actually dead. Unlike me.

06: I will have to tell them immediately. We can be in your area in a few days.

04: i'm not so sure that is a good idea.

06: Nonsense! There has been much arguing about whether or not you were even alive for some time. Now that they will know you are fine, they will all want to see you.

06: Quarters in particular will be thrilled to hear that you are indeed safe and sound.

With a squeak, you snatch back your laptop. Quarters is alive? That did indeed seem to be what Die had typed. Besides the height of his eyebrows, the younger Strider made no move to reclaim the hunk of green plastic.

04: quarters????

06: Indeed. He has 6een most annoying in his insistence to look for you.

06: Then again, you two were partners, were you not?

"Care to explain what he is taking about?" Dirk questions as you are typing your reply.

"Everyone in the crew had a partner. Someone to watch their back," you fumble over your explanation and pause in your work. "It, uh, I guess it was like a security thing. I mean, the guys kind of got assigned duties randomly, so you had to work with everyone at some point. But your partner was different. They were... like the guy who knew where to find you at any moment in case something happened."

"So it is like the mobster version of the buddy system," snorts Dave. "Awesome."

04: yes, we were partners! at least, as much as i could be a partner without leaving much. is he okay?

06: Some minor injuries, last I heard, 6ut otherwise fine.

06: I will tell him right after I talk to the 6oss.

You snatch your hands away from the keyboard as if they had been burned. Dave quickly resumes control of the computer as he bangs out some sort of message, but your mind is already whirling. He was going to know. Die knew and he was going to tell the Boss and then the Boss would know. You cannot even begin to imagine the fury that awaits you once he realized you had run away. Without so much as a word, Dirk tucks you up under one arm and dials someone with a push of a button.

"Yo, it's Dirk," he sort of ruffles your hair. "We've got a problem."

* * * * *

"No means motherfucking no!" snarls Gamzee, his eyes blazing with rage. "I don't care how many motherfucking ways you try to say it! Lucky is _not_ going to meet that second-rate voodoo motherfucker! The end!"

"It is not Die we are worried about," corrects Jade. "Dave said that he mentioned talking to English, so we need to get this meeting over with as soon as possible. That way we can make it clear that yes, we know that he knows Lucky is with us, but no, we are not going to give him up. There is nothing to worry about. We will be with Lucky the entire time."

"I don't fucking care if you motherfuckers are with him!" he throws his arms up in exasperation. "You are all motherfucking morons if you think that the motherfucking crew is all up and going to motherfucking let you bitches walk away. And we ain't motherfucking going back to that motherfucking place! Not motherfucking ever! Motherfucking cuntass bitch motherfuckers!"

"Whoa, uh, Gamzee? More words; less swearing," you lean away from him. You really wish sometimes that he had a moirail to keep him calm, but you quickly had been informed that you were only allowed to be a moirail to one person and any attempts at pacifying the wrong brother led to horrible tantrums from both of them. Gamzee for your infringement upon his quadrants and Kurloz for the obvious betrayal. (Quadrants are hard. They are hard and no one understands.)

Speaking of your moirail, he is currently kneading at your shoulders with his clawed hands. Every time someone mentions you meeting up with Die he curls a bit more around you as if to keep you with him. If this keeps up for much longer, you are pretty sure he is going to literally crush you to death. As it is, you feel like you are encased in a prison of bony limbs and growling noises. Growling noises that you do not foresee ending anytime soon.

"Look, I don't see how we have much of a choice, boys," Dirk cuts in before Gamzee can continue his tirade. "Either we meet with him now on our own terms, or we wait for English himself to get involved and come down here when we are not prepared. I, for one, much prefer a fight if I know it is going to happen instead of waiting for an ambush."

"Besides, there is no way that we are going to let anything happen to Lucky," the dark-haired woman places a hand on her hip. "Remember the doctor visit you were all up in arms about? That went perfectly fine."

"It's not the motherfucking same!" the purpleblood growls. "You don't have your know on about what the motherfucking Felt is all about. Well I will motherfucking tell you that it ain't about motherfucking friendly chats with you motherfuckers. If they motherfucking kill you guys, who the Hell is going to take care of our little motherfucker?"

"Wait, are you saying that they might actually be stupid enough to attack us in the middle of a fairly public part of town?" frowns the older Strider.

"Uh..." you blank out.

"Hell fucking yes that is what I am all getting my motherfucking gab on about," snorts Gamzee. "Most of those motherfuckers are more retarded than a box of rocks... motherfucking boxes of rocks that carry lots of guns."

"Okay, new plan, we are going with Lucky and everyone else is staying here," Dirk decides aloud.

"What?" exclaims Jade. "What do you mean? _I'm_ going with you!"

"Uh, Jade," the younger Strider frowns slightly. "I know that you've gotten really attached to these guys and all, but we can't just let you tag along to a meeting with armed goons. No offense, but at least Dirk and I are trained for combat."

"Well then, _I_ will just have to bring along one of my rifles," she replies, eyes glinting, "because I fail to see how bringing swords to a gun show is going to help!" The two Striders pause to look at each other. Sometimes you wonder if you are the only person unable to communicate through telepathy.

"She does have a valid point," shrugs Dirk. As they continue to talk, Kurloz and Gamzee withdraw a bit from the group. You went along, of course, mostly because Kurloz was carrying you. You highly doubt he will be putting you down anytime in the near future. Threats tended to make him clingier than usual. The meeting has been scheduled three days from now, but it feels to you as if the end of the world is imminent. You are so stressed that even after everyone has gone home for the night, you are still unable to sleep. Jade eventually relents to Kurloz's whines and gives you some sort of foul syrup to help you rest and you slowly drift away tucked under your moirail's chin, listening to the familiar beat of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate html code i hate html code i hate html code i hate html code i hate html code i hate html code i hate html code!!!!!!!!
> 
> phew. okay. so i have painstakingly learned how to add colored text to my chapters. ((this was really more like research for a possible new fic but since it wont be started until at least this one is done im not gonna say anythin else bout it)) i went with their hat colors for their text to make it easier to read and all that. it still took over two hours to just get it to work....i really understand how frustrated my moirail must be with my lack of tech savvy right now.


	13. The Meeting

You are woken up by loud noises and, grumbling, open your eyes. Through the headache and exhaustion, you note that you can see Jade's frantic face in a pool of light. There is someone slightly behind her that you are pretty sure is Jake in his boxers. You are in your moirail's embrace, Gamzee placed in front of the two of you in a defensive crouch, his horns tipped forward and claws spread wide. It is dark except for the streetlights, and you wonder why all of you are outside. Nothing makes sense. Your head hurts.

"-should just leave us the fuck alone!" Gamzee is yelling. "You motherfuckers can't have him! He's ours!"

"Calm down, Gamzee!" the woman is in her nightgown, holding her palms out in a show of defenselessness. "I thought we talked about this. Nothing is going to happen to Lucky. We won't _let_ anything to happen to him."

"It's not your motherfucking job to take care of him! That's our job! _We_ 're his family! Not you!" he gestures wildly, slicing through the air. "You ain't with us! You ain't in his quadrants! So back the motherfuck off and let us go!"

"What are you going to do the next time they find you, then?" Jade places a hand on her hip, looking peeved beyond reason. "And then the next time? Huh? Are you going to keep running away until they corner you because you have nowhere left to go? And what about Lucky's medicine? Have you thought about what you are going to do when he runs out?"

"We will be motherfucking fine!" he counters. "We were fine before we met you motherfuckers and we will be fine once we are gone! We don't need you!"

"Gamz?" you finally manage to work your swollen tongue and dry mouth enough to spit out a word. You see them all flinch. Your little bro turns around to glare at you, his eyes orange-tinted with rage.

"Shut him up, bro," he snarls. "We're leaving."

"Loz?" you blink and suddenly his face is in front of yours. "Nnn-" The flashing colors from his eyes interrupt your thoughts. _GO TO SLEEP,_ they say. _EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY, PALEBRO- JUST A LITTLE ARGUMENT. NOW SLEEP._ Your eyelids immediately droop, feeling impossibly heavy. Within moments you are in a deep slumber.

* * * * *

"Come on boys," a familiar voice wakes you. "We just want to talk-"

"Well we don't want to motherfucking talk to you!" replies Gamzee. You struggle to open your eyes, fighting the strong urge to simply roll over and go back to sleep. Then you see the starry night sky partially obscured by the limbs of trees. You groan softly and sit up with some effort. You see both of your trolls snarling at the Strider brothers, facing off neatly in pairs. Kicking off the blanket with an annoyed huff, you watch as their figures blur and disappear only to reappear somewhere else, still blocking the other from moving forward. Flashstep fights are stupid. These guys are stupid. Everything is stupid and hurts your pounding head even more.

They continue to ignore you until you literally walk right up to where your little bro and Dave are grappling with each other, the tall blonde trying to restrain the smaller troll. Gamzee is gnawing on one of his arms and attempting to claw out his eyes. Dave is leaning back with a grimace and twisting one of the purpleblood's arms. You can hear Dirk and Kurloz pausing in their struggle, but these two are completely oblivious to everything else.

That is the last straw.

With a hard set to your jaw, you reach up and slap Gamzee across the back of the head. As he releases his locked jaw to turn around and snarl at you, you punch him once in the nose. He stops to slap his hands over his snout at the same time the blond releases him. Then you stomp as hard as you can on the younger Strider's foot, and he yelps and hops backwards. Now that there is room between them, you place yourself firmly in the middle.

"No fighting!" you order.

"You fucking broke my nose, motherfucker!" complains the troll.

"Too bad!" you snap.

Dave stops hobbling for a moment to try and explain, "Lucky, shit, look I'm sorry. We were just-"

"I don't want to hear it, motherfucker!" you interrupt angrily. "If your face was any lower to the ground, I would have broken your nose too." You hear a distinct whining sound that you know is Kurloz attempting to placate you, but you hold up a hand and he stops in his tracks. "I don't want to hear it, Loz. I'm fucked up on cough syrup and chucklevoodoos; I'm exhausted and my head feels like it is splitting open. My patience is gone. Zilch. None."

You turn to see Gamzee sort of edging forward, his hands now crooked into claws again, "I said. No. Fighting. You understand, bro?" He hisses at you for this, but you glare at him until he lowers his arms anyway. "I will motherfucking rip those fangs right out of your head if you do not stop snarling. And you," you turn back to Dave, "put the fucking sword away or I will sheath it for you. In your fucking asshole."

"Damn, kid," whistles Dirk lowly. "I didn't even know you swore. But can we just calm down here for a moment?"

"No!' you shout. "No we apparently can't! Because I have had it! I know I'm little, okay, and I'm not fast or smart or have fucking awesome ninja skills or whatever, but I am sick and tired of everyone making Goddamn decisions for me! None of you motherfuckers have ever stopped and asked me what I wanted to do about this shitty mess and, you know what, fine!" You take a deep breath and note that they are all shifting uncomfortably, "Fuck all of you! I'm done. You bastards can stay here and fight like morons for all I care. I'm going back to Jade's place."

With that, you turn on your heel and begin literally stomping off towards the lights in the distance. The boys must have managed to carry you just outside of the city before the Strider brothers caught up. You actually do not expect to get far, and unsurprisingly your moirail flashsteps to you within a few yards and sweeps you into his arms. Although you flail a bit and yell at him, he does not put you down. Instead he feathers your face with kisses and, when you attempt to shove him away, your arms and palms as well. Eventually you slump, burying your face into his neck.

"I just want to go home," you mumble as he pets your tangled curls.

"You really want to do this, bro?" a quiet voice sounds nearby. "Little-bitty you up and lost your fear of those motherfuckers?"

You glance over to Gamzee, "No. I'm fucking terrified. But if it keeps you two safe... if we can make them leave us alone... then I have to go. You understand?"

The young troll sighs, "I think I can get my motherfuckin thinkpan wrapped around that." He prods his still oozing nose gently, stalling for a moment, "Yeah. Alright."

"Wait, that's it?" Dave incredulous voice makes you wince as it stabs into your head. "All this fuss and then you talk for like two seconds and suddenly everything is okay again?"

"If the little motherfucker can manage to break my nose, he is grown up enough to make his own damn decisions," shrugs the purpleblood. "Besides, you two assholes are gonna be with him. So if anythin happens, we will slit your motherfuckin throats and watch you bleed out. Slowly." You feel Kurloz give a slow nod in agreement and are glad you cannot see his expression.

"Lovely," monotones Dirk. "Now can we please head back? Jade is likely having a mental breakdown... and likely still blowing up our phones. I want to get some sleep sometime tonight."

* * * * *

When you arrive back at Jade's, her wail of relief woke you from your brief nap. She runs towards all of you, her nightgown flapping, and does not slow down until she has her arms wrapped around all three of you. Crushed between Kurloz's arms and Jade's embrace, you blink owlishly at the bright porch light. You can see Jake on the phone, a relieved expression on his face as he leans heavily against the door frame. When Jade pulls away, you can already see her expression hardening.

"You boys are _never_ to pull a stunt like that again," she hisses venomously, suddenly terrifying beyond all reason. "Do you hear me?"

"Y-yes, ma'am!" you squeak, even though Gamzee is rolling his eyes and your moirail simply shrugs.

Her face softens, "Not _you_ , Lucky. This was not your fault. Gamzee. Kurloz. I need you to understand how worried I was about you. You boys could have gotten hurt! Or lost! Or attacked by wolverines! Or other sorts of bad things! Did you forget that all three of you are part of our family now?"

Two pairs of purple eyes suddenly lock onto her bright green ones, "Say what now?"

"Family," she restates. "You know, people who care for and look out for one another. You boys don't just have each other now. You have me and Jake, too."

"And us," the elder Strider steps into view. "We don't jump out of bed in the middle of the night and track down just anyone, you know. Well-toned buttocks or not."

"Firm and squeezable," you add with a yawn. "Like peaches. I think I was supposed to say that part first."

Everyone stares at you.

"What the fu- erm, what?" Dirk's eyebrows are so high they have disappeared into his bangs.

"Lucky, where did you learn to say that?" frowns Jade.

Dave suddenly lowers his face into his waiting palms, "Don't tell me-"

"Cronus has been teaching me a new game," you poke Kurloz's quivering jaw curiously.

"What kind of game?" Jade presses.

"Um..." you realize that perhaps the game was supposed to be a secret. "It's... uh. I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you now. Because you look mad."

"I'm not mad at _you_ , Lucky," she soothes. "You aren't in trouble. Just tell me what kind of game it was. Like, did you two gossip about people or..."

"Mostly we just talked to a lot of strangers," you try to recall. "It was a lot of funny riddles and occasionally, uh, what are they called? Cronus said you-end-doze. Which sounds bad, but is basically talking about peoples butts without actually saying the word butt. Or ass. Um, are...are you sure I'm not in trouble? Your eye is twitching."

"Innuendos. Pick up lines. Oh. My. God!" she rounds on Dave. "Your moirail has been teaching Lucky to hit on random strangers! Even if he isn't technically a minor- Jesus Christ! What if some sleezebag was around? He could have been abducted! I'm going to _murder_ him!"

"Wait a second. The only time those two could ever be alone is..." Dave suddenly trails off.

"Whelp. Guess we have to find a new playground for the kids," Dirk concludes.

"Aw, what? No! That playground is awesome!" you panic. "It has the best merry-go-round! And all of our friends are there! I promise I will stop playing the pick up game! Please?" Kurloz snorts, and you wonder what is so funny. You genuinely liked some of those kids.

"Ugh," Jade rubs her eyes underneath her glasses. "We will talk about this later, Lucky. After I am done being homicidal."

"I'll have a talk with him," sighs the younger blonde.

"I kinda want to hear some of these lines he gave you," Gamzee grins fiendishly. "Bet they are motherfucking awful."

"No!" all the adults shout at the same time.

"Aw, all y'all are no fun," he grumbles, ambling right by them towards the house. After a second, your moirail follows him, still carrying you. You all file past Jake, who hugs each of you and jabbers about how worried he was about you guys. Then, it is back up to the bedroom. You curl up on Kurloz's chest and Gamzee tucks in under one of his arms and together, the three of you stare into space blindly.

"Family, huh?" the younger troll finally breaks the silence. "Well... I'll be damned. Looks like we got entrenched in this bitch a bit further than we had our know on about."

"I am the little blue alien," you mumble, already half-asleep. "It is me."

* * * * *

The next two days go by completely without incident. You and Gamzee worked on your handouts, Kurloz helped Jake around the house. Jade went in to work. Once Dave and the Strider kids stopped by to play. It was like things were back to normal. Except, nothing could ever be normal with the looming threat of meeting the Boss (English, you mentally correct. He is not your boss anymore.) The giant purpleblood has rarely set you down lately, let alone let you out of his sight. Apparently the fact he and Gamzee were not allowed at the meeting bothered him greatly.

You understand that he is worried. You understand that perhaps he is simply being overly clingy without even realizing it. You even understand that he has every right to be worried, considering the people you are going to face. However, you are getting rather tired of him latching on to you from the moment you attempted to climb out of bed until you fell asleep (and probably during when you were asleep too). In an act of desperation, you have climbed up one of the trees in the backyard and are refusing to come back down.

"Lucky, again with the trees?" Jake is pulling himself up onto one of the lower branches beneath you. "I thought you two had learned better."

"Go away, Jake," you huff, turning your back on him. "I just want to sit up here for awhile."

"All by yourself?" he asks, already reaching the limb just below you.

"Yes!" you throw your arms up into the air. "By myself! Alone! With no one else!"

"Whoa there, lad," he chuckles, leaning on your branch. "There is no need for all the dramatics. I am simply attempting to speak with you as a gentleman. Care to explain what is the matter?"

You sigh heavily, "That." You point down to the ground, where Kurloz is still woefully looking up at you, silently pleading for you to come back down. "That is the matter." You know he heard you when suddenly he juts out his bottom lip and pouts. "Ugh! You know what I mean, Loz!"

"I take it that you and Kurloz had some kind of falling out?" questions Jake.

"No, nothing like that," you shake your head, lowering you voice. "I just... ever since the email thing he has been smothering me. Carrying me around. Doing everything for me. At this rate I am going to forget how to walk before the meeting. I just want a little bit of alone time."

"The poor chap is only worried about you," points out the green-eyed man.

"I _know_ that," you explain exasperatedly. "But still- it stresses me out. Cause it makes me think that maybe this whole thing wasn't such a good idea after all, if he is so upset about it. You know?"

"Hmm, yes, I can see how this would affect your morale," he props his elbows on your branch to rest his head on his fists. "I think, though, that the most important thing is that you two both understand that you care about each other. Everything else will work out fine in the end."

You look down and see Kurloz's hopeful expression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," the man thumps you on the back enthusiastically, nearly knocking you off the tree limb. "Oh, tarnation! Are you okay, Lucky?"

"Y-yeah," you release your death grip on the bark beneath you. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Do you care to join me on my descent back to solid ground then?" he gestures. You give a small chuckle and take his hand. Perhaps things would work out alright after all.

* * * * *

It is the day of the meeting, and you are already at your breaking point. All morning, Kurloz had toted you around, fussed with your clothes, and growled at anyone who got to close. When you finally had placated him enough to release you into Jade's custody, your group was already running late. Instead of picking up the Strider brothers on the way, you just had them meet you at the prearranged area. Die had suggested a local park for the 'reunion,' and everyone seemed to agree that multiple exits and lots of potential witnesses were good things.

Now you are in the middle of a box formation, holding on to Jade's hand like it is a lifeline. Dr. Zahhak is leading the group, something about intimidation factor, which you can definitely see since he seems especially scary this afternoon. There is a Strider on either side of you and Jade, and Jake is walking half a pace behind all of you. Despite their attempts to look relaxed and casual, there is a sort of high-strung edge to them that makes you worry. There is also an alarming lack of pedestrians in the park, and no one has spotted 'any guys in bright green suits' yet.

"Excuse me, sir," a frail sort of voice cuts through your thoughts, "but would you happen to be Dr. Zahhak?"

"I am," answers the veterinarian as you attempt to lean so you can look around him. "Are you perchance the one called Die?"

"Ah, I am indeed," he responds, just as you manage to get a good look at him. Despite having a new scar across his face, Die is much like how you remembered him. His green top hat is a bit more frayed and worn, but his suit is as haphazardly thrown on as always. He even has his favorite white voodoo doll in his grasp, turning it over and over in his hands. "A-ah, hello, Clo-er, Lucky. It has been quite some time. You look well."

"Heh," your mouth twitches in an abortive attempt to smile. "Hi, Die."

"I take it these people are your escorts then?" he glances over the group with mild curiosity.

"We are Lucky's friends," responds Dirk flatly.

"Right," Die nervously puts his voodoo doll back in a coat pocket and tips his hat. "Quite right. I suppose we should continue on to the Boss. The rest of the guys should be done securing a perimeter by now. Either that, or they are dead. Ah, but one shouldn't get their hopes up. If you would follow me, please." He turns and immediately starts walking further into the trees. With only a moment's hesitation, your little caravan starts walking again.

"Still a creep," you mutter under your breath. Beside you, one of the Striders chuckles. You follow him for quite some time, none of you really saying anything.

"Ah, there's one of them," your guide sighs in disappointment. "I found them, Quarters." A harsh grunt is the only reply, but you know that tone anywhere.

"Quart?" you instantly perk up, trying to peek around the massive frame in front of you. When you still cannot see, you tug impatiently on Jade's hand. The two of you finally catch sight of each other and lock eyes. He drops the giant minigun (something that looks like it should be mounted on a tripod or the back of a vehicle instead of toted around like a shotgun) and falls to one knee, holding out his arms. You glance up pleadingly at the woman holding you back and you see her struggle to come to a decision. Then she lets go of your hand, and you walk forward (edging around Die because, seriously, fuck him) into his embrace.

"You okay, Kid?" he grumbles.

"Uh-huh," you nodnodnod. He makes a sound of approval and shifts you into one arm. Then he grabs the massive gun with the other and stands, "Whoa, wait!" He starts walking away and you raise your voice, "Hey! Quarters! Put me down! I can walk; my legs are just fine!"

"I must insist that you release the young man," Dr. Zahhak is stepping forward. Despite the fact Quarters has a good couple inches on the veterinarian, they square off as if they are sizing each other up. With a noncommittal grunt and a shrug, he carefully lowers you to the ground. You grab your elbows and take a deep breath, trying to get over the fact that no matter how much you have grown on the inside, you are still the same tiny kid on the outside. And that scares you.

Then Jade is scooping you back to her side, "You okay, Lucky?"

"Yeah," you frown at Quarters disapprovingly. "Ask first, asshole."

His eyes widen with surprise before he snorts with amusement. "Can do, Kid," he replies. "Come on; everyone's waiting."

"Oh, they most certainly are," Die suddenly becomes nervous, fidgeting with his voodoo doll again. "We should continue on; it is not much farther." So once again your little group follows the bright green backs of the Felt suits, even as you wonder who all the 'everyone' in that sentence entailed. The trees are starting to thin, and then the next thing you know, you are standing at an open clearing. You blink against the harsh light for a moment, then you see the figures standing out near the edge of the field. One of those figures is much bigger than the others, and your heart skips a beat. He sees you the exact moment you see him, and you note the sudden pain and sadness in his eyes. But suddenly that does not matter, because there he is, alive and well.

" _Cans_?" you cannot believe it. "Cans!" Your feet start to move. He smiles at you with that crooked grin and missing teeth and your are flying towards him. "Canscanscanscanscanscanscanscans!" When you launch yourself at him, he scoops you out of the air, whirling you around in a circle. By the time he stops, the whole world keeps spinning, "Oh my God, I thought you were _dead_! You should be dead! Why are you not dead? Wait. Why didn't Die tell me you weren't dead? _Die_!"

"Whoa there, kiddo," he laughs. "Did someone give you sugar? And what's this about dying? I haven't died yet, and I don't plan on it anytime soon." Behind you someone clears their throat, so Cans maneuvers you over to sit on one of his broad shoulders just like you used to when you were littl-um, younger. Quarters just raises his eyebrows at you.

" _Cans_ doesn't have to ask," you inform him.

"I had thought that you would be more excited to see Quarters," Die muses aloud. "So much for partners." It is then that you realize that you are surrounded by old Felt members. You look around to see Crowbar vigilantly checking the surroundings, Stitch looking as stern and anchient as ever, and even Matchsticks. A lot of the guys are missing. You know better than to ask about them. Then you see the Striders standing with Jade and Jake and Dr. Zahhak and suddenly feel guilty about running off like that.

"I take it you are ones who were looking after Lucky here," the giant you are perched upon nods in the direction of your friends. "I can't thank you enough. Little guy has a tendency to find trouble."

"We _are_ ," Jade replies evenly enough. "I would say he makes the trouble, though. I am Jade, and this is my brother, Jake. These two are our friends, and then, of course, Dr. Zahhak who helped arrange this meeting."

"Everyone calls me Cans," he holds out a massive hand. They shake and then he gestures around him, "This here is what's left of the crew. Crowbar is the guy who can't relax. That's Stitch. You already met Die and Quarters. Oh, and Matchsticks is the one heading out to get the last guy and the Boss." You freeze up, mind blanking completely. Oh right. The Boss. The whole reason you are here. You suddenly want to leave.

You pat Can's shoulder a couple times and he immediately moves to put you back on the ground without so much as a second's hesitation. Nice guy Cans. _That_ is why he never has to ask. You retreat to Jade's side once again, and she smiles at you in a calming sort of way. You start to give yourself a pep talk. You could do this. From the looks of it, only Quarters, Matchsticks, and Crowbar are armed and none of them are likely to shoot you even if ordered to do so.

That is when you see the three people emerging from the treeline. Something is not quite right. Neither of the two new figures are the right size to be the Boss. In fact, they both are a lot smaller than Matchsticks. When you finally recognize them, your brain begins to stall again. Of all the people you expected to see again, neither of them were very high on the list. One of them continues walking up to your group, while the other two hang back a few steps. Then you are looking up at the one person who might just be able to make this mess a little more bearable.

"Hello, Clover," she gently smiles at you, serene as always.

"Callie?" you gape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and look who is finally off hiatus!! sorry for the long wait everyone. things got a little crazy for me for awhile there. but i am back now and there should be semi-regular updates from here on out. also ive been told by my moirail to apologize in advance. im sorry. apparently i do not write happy stories well. or at all.


	14. The Beginning of the End

"You expecting someone else?" she quips, as witty as always.

"But- Die said- Die- The _Boss_ ," your brain is refusing to properly string together a sentence.

"Oh," her eyebrows knit together. She turns to Die, who is sulking in the background, "Die. Did you not tell Clo-um, Lucky, anything at all? Honestly!"

"I did not think it was appropriate to air such laundry on a public forum, Boss," he pulls his top hat down over his eyes a little.

At this she rolls her eyes and sighs, "I've told you to stop calling me that." She turns back towards your group, "I'm sorry for the confusion. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Calliope English, the new head of the English family business. My father was forced to... retire after the fiasco with the Midnight Crew. Last intelligence we had, he was in Prague. Needless to say, there have been some fundamental changes to our organization."

"Oh, you must be Callie," Jade suddenly seems much friendlier. "It is so nice to meet you. I'm Jade." They shake hands, and suddenly you are feeling more at ease than you could have dreamed possible. But there was still the problem of-

"Look. As much as I love to see two bitches getting all friendly with each other. Didn't we come here. Specifically to see someone?" his voice grates. "Oh look. There he is. Hiding behind the girl's skirt. Hello, Clover."

Calliope just massages the bridge of her nose, "Right. This is my brother, Caliborn. Who is still on probation from his last time he was allowed outside."

"I can see why," mutters one of the Strider brothers.

"You aren't the boss of me! _I'm_ the older sibling. Not you," snarls the teenager.

"Caliborn, we have talked this through a hundred times," Callie is barely keeping her composure. "You are not fit to run anything. Especially considering your current condition."

"I just lost a fucking leg," he retorts. "Not a big deal. My new one works just fine."

"I suppose that accounts for the pimp cane," Dirk deadpans. You emit the tiniest of traitorous chuckles and the older boy glares venomously at you.

"About this meeting," Jade cuts in before Caliborn can start ranting again. "We really did not get any information on what it is that you wanted."

At this, the young woman's bright green eyes soften, "Ah, right. Actually, I would like to speak with Lucky alone for a moment, if that is alright with you."

Jade looks questioningly at you and you nod. She shrugs, "Sure. As long as you two don't go too far away."

"We'll just have an aside for a moment," she assures your friends. "Lucky?" She holds out a hand. You hesitate for just a moment before taking it, wondering where the two of you are going.

* * * * *

The walk does not last long. She leads you about ten yards out, and then stops. She kneels down so that she is at your level, something very few people bother to do, and you can see her examining you with her uncannily green eyes. You hope that you did not scuff up your nice new clothes too badly when you glomped Cans earlier.

"So," she smiles softly, "I take it that those people are your friends." You nodnodnod. "They seem like very nice people. Are they taking good care of you?"

"Uh-huh," you nod again. "I've got my own room and everything. Jake takes us to the park sometimes when he babysits the Strider kids. And Jade always gives us dessert. And... I'm... you know. Better."

"You certainly look better," agrees Callie. "I take it you are clean?" You think for a moment about pretending that you do not know what she is talking about, but instead you settle on staring at your shoes and nodding. "I thought so. I'm so very, very proud of you, Lucky." When you glance up in surprise, she continues, "Not very many people make it out of the situation you were in without having some problems. But you did the responsible thing and got help- got better.

"I... I suppose the main reason I came out here with everyone was to make sure that you were okay. Well, I could have come with just a couple of them, but I thought they might all want to see you again. Now... I just want you to know that it is completely your decision what happens next."

"Hee hee hee. Wh-what do you mean?" you start to feel uneasy.

"I mean that there is a choice for you to make," she explains. "Either you can remain here with your new friends, or you can come with us." She notes your sudden alarm, "Hold on a moment. Let me explain properly. The Felt is no longer going to be a group of mafia thugs. In fact, I am disbanding it altogether."

"You're _what_?" a voice cuts through your thoughts. The two of you turn to see that Caliborn had followed you part of the way, and is now standing within a few paces with flames in his eyes. You rarely have seen him this angry. Callie sighs, then stands to face him and the others clustered farther behind him.

"You heard me, brother," she tilts her chin up just a tad, speaking clearly. "This farce of an organization has lingered long after it should have ended. My goal now is to rehabilitate the members back into society and prevent as much collateral damage as possible. I have already spoken to most of the others. This trip was mainly to ensure that Lucky was being well cared for, as well as to set up Cans's new life here." Everyone stops to stare at the giant.

He grins ruefully, "I'm going back to college. Boss was worried about the Midnight Crew, so I'm getting all set up with a new identity here on the east coast. It's like privately funded witness protection."

"That is precisely what it is," continues Calliope. "Just like Stitch's new tailor shop further north and Matchsticks joining the firefighters in California. Father is gone and the Felt is over. It is time to move on with our lives."

"You can't do that!" shouts Caliborn. "Everything Father worked for! Everyone who died! It cannot all go to waste! Just because you think you know better! The world is not a happy place! Full of sunshine and daisies! You cannot just wipe away! All of the bad things that happened! And the ones! That have not happened yet!"

"No, but I _can_ try to counter all those bad things with good ones, Caliborn," she retorts. "Ruling by fear and force is not the way to make the world a better place. It's over, brother."

"Like Hell it is!" he screams with rage, reaching for something under his jacket. Oh no. You know exactly what that is. And it is not good. For anyone. The muzzle of the gun is already pointing directly at the two of you when your brain finally decides that trying to get in front of Calliope is the most reasonable course of action. After all, you are too lucky to get shot. The instant the muzzle flashes, two shapes flashstep in and grab the two of you. In a blur of colors that swirl together into a bland gray, you are suddenly deposited on the grass in a manner that highly suggests that you were dropped. You bounce twice before skidding to a halt. Your head is spinning. There's a lot of yelling.

"-Christ! Who let him near the armory?"

"-me go! She's ruining everything! EVERYTHING!"

"-not good. Doc!"

"-all up and ruined my motherfuckin day."

Suddenly everything is clear again. That voice. You know that lilting voice. No. No. They cannot be here. They are not supposed to be here. You roll over and onto your feet, eyes already searching for the owner of that voice. There he is. You little brother, holding purple-stained hands to his abdomen. No. Calliope is crouched over a much larger gray shape along with Dirk, who is frantically pulling off his jacket. No. He appears to be using it to staunch a stream of that awful color. No. No. NO.

You scramble forward, slipping in your haste. By the time you skid to a halt by his head, you do not even notice that you just used Calliope to stop your momentum. There is a violet froth around his lips. You quickly wipe it away with your sleeve and then cradle his head in your arms. Your chest hurts.

"Loz?" your voice comes out tiny and hurt and confused. His eyes immediately snap towards yours. He tries to smile. His hand comes up and brushes your face, a touch that is just barely there. Then his throat works, more blood bubbling forth as he tries to breathe. It reminds you of Itchy bleeding out on the stairs. This cannot be happening. His hand falls away. His eyes go distant. You cannot let him just leave you like this. "Loz! Kurloz! No, don't do this! Stay here! Answer me! You can do it; I know you can!" His eyes start to glaze over, "No! Kurloz! Loz! Loz! Don't leave me!"

Someone touches your shoulder gently, and you shrug them off. You do not want to be touched right now. His chest is not moving anymore. It has not for some time. It is riddled full of bleeding wounds. His eyes bother you. You gently brush his eyelids down. For a moment, you wish you could pretend he was just asleep. Instead, you clutch him tighter to yourself and press your face into his wild mane. It still smells of the shampoo Jade bought that was supposed to help manage his tangles.

* * * * *

You have no idea how long you have been sitting with your moirail. Although it has probably only been seconds, it feels like hours. When you glance up, you notice that no one is paying attention to you. The world feels strange. It is like you are in a bubble where no one and nothing can reach you. The sounds are muted. Even the colors seem to have dimmed. Nearby, Crowbar is tying a makeshift bandage around Callie's arm. His favorite shotgun with the sawed-off stock is lying in the grass behind him. No one even notices when you lift the heavy thing up.

Nor do they pay you any mind as you walk away from the cluster of frantic people trying to help and towards where Matchsticks has wrestled the weapon away from Caliborn. In fact, as you pull the gun up to your shoulder, you are fairly sure that none of them can even see you at the moment. Even if they could, there would be nothing there. You are a complete void. The moment breaks when Caliborn glances over to see you.

The surprise on his face quickly turns to smug scorn, "What are you going to do, Clover? Shoot me? You can't even lift that thing."

Someone behind you begins to yell, "Lucky, no-" You let the heavy gun dip as you squeeze the trigger. The noise is deafening. The recoil makes you stagger back and nearly knocks you clean off your feet. Caliborn's leg explodes into plastic shrapnel. He falls backwards and lands heavily on his ass with a scream. Now you can aim the gun directly at his ugly mug.

"You fucking asshole! That's the same damn leg! I lost! Fuck! Shit!" he clutches at the stump of his thigh.

"You. Killed. My. Rail," you hiss out, all thoughts pointing to one thing. Make. Him. Pay.

"Lucky, you don't want to do this," someone is trying to reason with you. Whoever it is, they are wrong. You have never wanted to a thing so badly in your entire life. Then suddenly, a strange thought pops into your head that goes something like- CLOVER SHI ENGLISH! YOU GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN ASS BACK WHERE I CAN MOTHERFUCKING COVER YOU!

You wince, you swear that was almost yelled out loud. But at the same time, only Kurloz could talk to you in your head like that. In your confusion, you wonder if you have made a mistake. You half-turn to look behind you, "Loz?"

The face that you lock on to is not your moirail. It has the same eyes that flash pink and purple. It has the same wavy horns. But the cheekbones are too high. The nose too straight. This time you can see the lips move as he talks, aloud and in your head at the same time, "YOU ALL UP AND HEARD ME, MOTHERFUCKER! GET. YOUR. MOTHER. FUCKIN. **ASS**. MOTHER. FUCKING. OVER. HERE. NOW."

You fight the urge. This is not your moirail and... There is something you are supposed to be doing, your brain insists. Something important. You do not want to- " **I SAID NOW!** " You hiss out your defiance even as you take your first step towards him. The heavy gun dips in your grip, pointing now at the ground. Apparently that was all everyone was waiting on, because suddenly gloved hands are snatching the shotgun away, and someone grabs you and pulls you in close.

"Shhh, it's okay, Lucky," Dave is trying to soothe you. "It's okay. I've got you."

"Don't you _dare_ shoosh me!" you explode, bringing up your fists and trying to pummel him. "You aren't my motherfucking moirail! Don't you dare!"

"I know I'm not," he reassures you. "I know. Dirk?"

"Yeah," his brother responds. "Someone get that asshole out of here before _I_ take the shotgun to him. Because I won't be aiming for his prosthetic."

"Crowbar, you and Matchsticks go. Take Die and Stitch, too," orders Calliope. "See if you can get him patched up well enough to get him back home. Quarters and Cans, you are with me.

"Gamzee, I insist that you cease moving at once. Your wounds are quite serious," demands Dr. Zahhak. That was all you needed to hear.

"Gamz," you exhale, suddenly realizing that you need to see him. He was injured as well, and he is still alive. He is not your moirail, but now he is the only family you have left. You need to make sure that he is okay.

"With me," insists the younger Strider. He loosens his hold on you only to latch on to your hand, as if to make sure that you do not try anything again. You practically drag him back anyway, desperate to check on the young troll. Despite the purple everywhere, he seems to be doing okay. His face is not pale, and his breathing is normal, if a bit shallow. The bullet wounds seem to all be in his gut. Although that is definitely not good, it is survivable if he gets immediate care. You glance up at the big veterinarian.

"I should be able to clean and treat these wounds," he confirms your thoughts. "First, however, we need to get him back to the clinic as quickly as possible. Jade, I will need you to accompany me."

"Don't do anything stupid, lil' bro," Gamzee bops you weakly on the head. "You already used up your stupid points for the next motherfuckin sweep." Then Dr. Zahhak is scooping him up, quickly striking out back through the trees with Jade by his side. The group has greatly decreased in size. Now there are only three of your friends and three of the old Felt crew. You happen to look over and see Quarters and Cans stooped over your moirail's body and nope. That is not happening.

You break free of Dave's grip and launch yourself at Quarters, an attack so ferocious that he actually retreats out of sheer shock and instinct. Then you protectively hunch over Kurloz, "Back off!"

Cans shows you his massive unarmed hands, "Lucky, we were just going to-"

"No!" you snap, pulling Kurloz's up so that he is almost sitting in your lap. You wrap an arm around his shoulders, "He is not part of your fucking crew! You aren't going to bury him out behind the shed like Mituna!"

"Jesus, kid," breathes out Cans. "We weren't going to do anything like that. We were just going to carry him. He's not the smallest guy, you know." You snarl a wordless sound of fury and he takes a quick step backwards. Callie gives them a look before brushing by both the tall men. You growl at her, but she simply continues forward until she is a few feet away.

"Lucky," she pauses. "Lucky, look at me." You had not even realized you were avoiding her gaze until she said something. You stare at her impassively and she continues, "I am so sorry, Lucky. I cannot even conceive the amount of hurt you are going through right now. But please do not take your anger out on them. I was the one who ultimately allowed Caliborn to come with us, so what he has done is my responsibility. If you are to be angry at someone, it should be me."

"It's not fair," you state.

"It never is fair, Lucky," she points out.

You shake your head, "No. I mean. We left so that they could live. So they could be safe. No more orders. No more dying. But we still weren't safe. It's not fair."

"I know," her eyes being to overflow with tears. "I know it's not fair."

"Don't worry, chap," Jake is suddenly beside you, pulling you in for a sideways hug. "We'll take good care of him. You don't need to worry." He pulls back a little and pauses, "Uh... Lucky. Is that blood...red?"

You look down at your mess of a shirt, covered mostly in purple. That one patch, though, definitely is not purple. It is kind of a weird magenta color. And hey, there is another one. That cannot be good. "...Yep."

"...Shit."

* * * * *

You had to get fifteen stitches. Luckily one bullet had just grazed you, but the other one had to be dug out. Apparently the bullets that had gone through Gamzee had still had some velocity in them. Speaking of your brother, he still is not awake. Apparently his injuries were severe enough that Dr. Zahhak had decided to keep him under sedation and pain medication for a little while. You had been waiting at his bedside constantly, refusing to leave for any reason. You did not eat. You hardly drank. You did not sleep, not that you thought you would be able to. But finally they found something that could drag you away.

When you finally get to see him, he looks amazing. In an expensive suit, with his hair finally tamed and his blemishes smoothed out with makeup. His hands are folded peacefully over his stomach, which you assume has been patched up beneath the nice duds. Someone told you that Callie insisted on paying for everything. The doctor bills and the funeral. You do not know if you care. All that matters right now, is that you are going to stay with Kurloz now. Gamzee has the others to look after him, but his brother only has you.

At first the others resist your demand to remain by his side. However, Jade finally crumbles and they agree to let you stay as long as someone checks in on you every couple hours. You sit by the coffin diligently, occasionally standing on the chair to peer in to check on him. You do not know what you are afraid of happening to him, but you are afraid of it all the same. Night comes, and you refuse to go home with Jade. She lets you know that the Striders will be here in a few hours if you change your mind. You know you will not.

In the dark room, you finally lose your resolve. Standing up on the chair, you can easily lean over into the coffin. You carefully, oh so carefully, lower yourself into it. You timidly curl up onto Kurloz's chest, just like always. With your head pillowed in the hollow of his throat, the deathly silence screams at your eardrums. Without the beat of his heart or the rise and fall of his chest, it is unnaturally still and quiet. Nevertheless, you finally manage to fall asleep for the first time in days.

* * * * *

"-him. He's not hurting anything," someone is saying.

"It's just creepy," another voice responds. "I mean, have you seen anything like it?"

"I have," a third voice chips in. It sounds kind of warble-y. "It's pretty common in trolls that lose their moirail. A lot of the time they have to be put down."

"That's fucked up on so many levels," responds Dave.

"No, no, hear me out," the seatroll continues. "It's like this. In a moirallegiance, there is usually the conciliatory one that does all the soothing and the apeshit one that needs to be kept in check, right? Well, when one of them is gone, it usually means that the other one failed. Either the concilitator died because the other troll was not strong enough to protect him, or the other one dies because the concilitator could not keep him in line and he did somethin stupid. If that happens, the one that is left usually goes suicidal.

"The crazy one is no longer grounded, so he often goes ballistic until someone or something stops him. That's a no-brainer. But the weird part is that pacifying one often goes down that road, too. I've seen it before. They just... give up on living. Often times they lose their purpose and just pine away. Sometimes they will lose it, too, and go attacking trolls they can't realistically beat or gettin into situations that force their death. So basically to avoid the trouble, lots of times they are just put down if they start showin signs like that."

"Please tell me you are not stupid enough to do anything like that if I happen to kick the bucket," Dave tries to make light of the situation.

There is a slight pause, "I honestly don't know what I would do. You are my first real quadrantmate. I...I don't think I want to talk about this right now."

"Yeah, stopping the depressing talk would be an awesome idea," the older Strider cuts in. "The little guy is awake."

"...Oh."

You sigh, "I'm not going anywhere. Leave us alone."

"Now that I think of it, you two were always sleeping like this, weren't you?" Dirk leans over the coffin a little. You refuse to look at him, so he continues, "You can't sleep when you're on your own, can you?"

"Just leave us alone," you burrow your face into Kurloz's shirt. It does not even smell like him. Your stomach rolls.

"Kid, we aren't burying you with him," he cuts to the chase.

"I know," you sigh again, this time more wistfully. "Not yet." You do not have to look to know that all three of them are exchanging significant glances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so my rail and i were talkin bout how i hadnt posted this chapter yet and i said ''i think im puttin it off cause its gonna make so many people sad and stuff.''
> 
> her reply-- ''do it anyway. itll be funny''
> 
> so my lovely rail can go from nicest person you ever met to emotionally sadistic bastard in two seconds flat. scary part is shes the concilitator of this moiraillegence. yeah. let that sink in....


	15. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warning: Suicide Attempt/Self Harm**
> 
> Just realized that could be bad if it sneaked up on someone. I apologize again for the feels.

It takes the threat of not being allowed to attend the funeral to get you to leave Kurloz. Once you do, you go right back to waiting by Gamzee's bedside. Most of your life has revolved around these two trolls, and now that they are out of commission it feels like your entire world is falling apart. Every time you attempt to think of doing something besides just staying with them, your mind begins to blank. Jade practically has to shove your medication on you, and has actually darkly promised to force feed you if you do not start to eat. You do not have the heart to tell her that there is no point in eating. There is really not much of a point to anything, honestly.

Gamzee gets his dosages cut and wakes up later that evening. Not for long. He simply ruffles your hair, tells you to go take a bath because you reek, and then goes back to sleep. You cannot refuse him, so you go and clean up. Then you return back to your chair and wrap your arms around your knees. The funeral is tomorrow. You were promised that you could go spend the night with Kurloz again. Apparently no one wanted to deny you access from him, seeing as you would be unable to see him for a long time soon enough. When Jake picks you up and then drops you off, he spends the entire time trying to talk to you. For the most part, you completely ignore him out of sheer apathy.

Then you walk into the funeral home and Cans is sitting in your chair.

"Hey, Lucky," his eyes tighten. "I...I just came to pay my respects. Callie wants us to lay low for awhile so I can't make it to-"

"You're in my spot," you point out.

"S-Sorry," he practically leaps to his feet. You clamber onto your chair as he continues, "Look, Lucky... I really don't know how to say how sorry I am. All we wanted was to give you little guys a fighting chance. Kurloz and me, I mean." You attention immediately snaps to him at the mention of your moirail, "When everything went down, I told him to run. He knew what I meant. And I was so happy, because you guys- you were supposed to be okay. You were supposed to go have your happily-ever-after.

"But I fucked everything up. If you had just stayed- Callie. She disbanded the crew anyway. She could have set you three up with a new life, just like me. You never would have had to go through such a scary experience. And maybe Kurloz would still be-"

"Shut up," you snap. "Just. Shut the fuck up. It doesn't matter now." He pauses, obviously still searching for the words to make everything better. You wish he would just understand that there is no making it better.

"Right," says Cans. "Okay. I will... I will leave you two alone. I know it does not seem like it now, but it will get better. Just remember that it takes time, Lucky." He leaves. What a joke. Time is the one thing you have in short supply. It also is the one thing that will not bring Kurloz back.

* * * * *

The funeral is a nice, quick affair. The pastor has no qualms speaking for a troll of dubious religious beliefs. Gamzee is well enough to attend, leaning heavily on a crutch to help maintain his balance. There are flowers everywhere, in every color of the rainbow. You think Kurloz would have liked that. You place your little bundle of white clover and purple phlox on his chest when you get your turn to pay your final respects. It will have to be your placeholder for now.

Outside a freezing drizzle has started, but no one complains. A little tent has been pitched over the waiting hole and its mound of dirt. The pastor says a few more things that you really do not listen to. The casket is lowered into the ground, and you are the first one to let your little handful of dirt patter down into the abyss where your heart used to be. The littlest Strider troll is watching you with eyes that seem to glow red.

"I love you, Loz," is all you say. Jade has her hand on your shoulder, but you stand firm. You made a promise, after all.

* * * * *

Three days after the funeral and Gamzee has already abandoned the crutch. He never was one to show any weakness. You fondly pat his arm when he elbows you at the table. He is already completely in the clear. There are no complications, so Dr. Zahhak expects him to make a full recovery. He no longer allows you to wait at his bedside when he has to lie down. It is good to know that he is just as invincible as you always thought he was.

The Striders come by for a visit that evening. All of them. Cronus is standoffish with you, likely having been heartily scolded by Jade. Dave ruffles your hair and remarks that it is about time you got it cut. Sollux just holds Dirk's hand and occasionally sparks blue and red. Karkat, however, stares at you intensely for some time. Then he asks where Gamzee is at, determined to make sure his older friend is actually okay. You eventually wander outside, where it is snowing again.

The freezing slush brings a blissful numbness to your body, but dagger-sharp pain to your memories. Kurloz features prominently in all of them. You try to remember your first time seeing snow. You think you and Callie had gone outside to make snowmen and snow angels. At least, that's how you think it started. What you do remember is the massive snowball fight with everyone. Callie and Caliborn and Gamzee and even Meulin because she had still been around... and Kurloz. He had been a flashstepping cheat, and managed to remain completely dry.

"Lucky!" exclaims a woman. You glance up to see Jade frowning at you, "It's freezing out here! Everyone has already left, so why don't you come inside and take a nice, hot bath?"

"'Kay," you sniffle. As you pass by, you briefly give her hips a quick hug with your unfeeling arms. "Thanks, Jade."

She looks confused, "It's not a big deal. Tell you what: I'll make you some hot cocoa for when you get done."

"Sure," you agree absentmindedly.

* * * * *

The razor blade is hard to grip in your cold-stiffened fingers, but you manage somehow. You are so numb that you do not even feel the first cut. The next one draws a stinging line across your wrist. This really is not how you wanted to go about killing yourself, but there really were not a lot of options at this point. The Harley siblings have been extra careful to keep anything remotely dangerous out of sight, and you no longer have access to anything you could overdose on. They should not have bothered to make it so difficult; you would always be able to find a way. Besides, you are no longer needed. Cronus was right. It is better for you to be put down than to simply waste time fading away. Perhaps this way you can see Kurloz sooner.

It is not like how it looks in the movies. You are so cold that your blood is thick and slow to bead to the surface. It is going to take a lot more cuts. You attempt to switch hands, but for some reason you cannot grip the thin blade with your other hand. You wonder if it is due to your mangled arm or the frozen muscles. No matter. You simply grab the blade in your fist, letting it stab into your hand. It is not like you are going to need it in a few minutes anyway.

You manage no more than two crude, jagged wounds on your other arm when a loud boom interrupts your thoughts. Suddenly Gamzee is in the tub with you, his snarling face mere inches from yours. He reaches for the blade in you hand and you jerk away, realizing that he meant to take it from you. It takes a moment for it to register he is yelling at you.

"-the motherfucking blade right now! Give it to me! What the motherfuck do you think are fucking doing you little motherfucker?" he snarls, still scrambling for a purchase on your blood-slicked arms. "Motherfucking asshole of a cuntlicking bitch! JAKE! **JADE!** "

"Leave me alone, Gamzee!" you yell back, irrationally furious. "Let me do it! Let me! Let go! I'm not your moirail! I'm nobody! Just let me go!"

"Are you bitchtits insane?" he screams into your face. "Is _this_ what you think Kurloz would want? Is it?"

"I don't care!" you vision starts to blur. "I don't care what he wants! He's dead! This is what I want! _I_ want Kurloz!" It takes a moment for you to realize that you are crying. You cannot remember a single time in your entire life when you have cried. It throws you off so much that Gamzee uses this distraction to twist the piece of metal out of your hands. He throws it away at the same moment as the thundering footsteps come to a halt.

"Oh my God," Jade exclaims from the doorway. Your head sinks heavily onto your little brother's chest as he clutches you to him, pulling you upright.

"I want Kurloz," you pathetically whimper, and then everything goes black.

* * * * *

"Wake up," someone harshly jabs something into your thigh. "You are all patched up and ready to go, little motherfucker."

You reluctantly open your eyes, thoughts still disoriented. Something is shoved in front of your face. When it comes into focus, you see it is a pale yellow rose. When you reach for it, you see the bandages around your wrists and instantly the hopelessness and depression crush you. Kurloz. He is still so far away.

"Take the fucking flower," demands Gamzee. You close your fingers around it and note there are no thorns. Of course. Now they will never let you near anything remotely dangerous. It is going to be a long time before you can see Kurloz.

"I wanted a pink one," he continues, so you turn your head to look at him. His face is slightly flushed, but his eyes are hard and bright. "Pink is traditionally the color used, but I was told that all up and meant something motherfucking different in the language of flowers, whatever the fuck that is supposed to be about. So you get yellow. Do you know what that means?"

You shake your head, so he answers himself, "I'm not sure if I believe Jade, but she says that motherfucking yellow roses mean lots of things. Friendship. An apology. Jealousy. A broken heart. Undying love. ...Do you understand what I am saying?"

Your brow furrows as you try to think, "I...I don't..."

"It's not fair," he says with such venom that you actually are a little frightened. "I don't understand why it happened like this. It was never supposed to be like this. How come he gets to have such a motherfucking hold over you when _I saw you first_?"

"Gamz?" you do not like where this is going.

"No, you shut up," barks the young troll. " _I_ was the one who was always motherfucking helping you. _I_ was the one who always took care of you. _I_ protected you. Just because he was bigger- or because you thought he motherfucking needed you more- or whatever. It is not fair. He's not allowed to take you away when he's already motherfucking gone. Morails are supposed to build each other up, not become so dependent they cannot function without one another. You are a motherfucking wreck right now. So I'm not giving you an option.

"As long as you act like a motherfucking idiot and try to do stupid shit, I am going to be right fucking there to stop you. Every. Single. Motherfucking. Time. And I am going to keep doing it until you don't need me anymore. Because I don't know what I'm supposed to motherfucking do if I lose both of you, you little shitstain."

"Gamz, that's not right- you can't-"

"Don't you motherfucking tell _me_ what I can and cannot do after you went and did what you done," he interrupts you, eyes orange and growing darker by the moment. "Honk! I know. I know we won't be real moirails. And that's okay. But so motherfuckin help me, I am _not_ losing any more family. Not even if I had to motherfucking rip apart the whole Goddamn world just to keep you safe."

You get that feeling again. The one that tells you Gamzee has been around long before you and will keep on existing long after you are gone. There is just something about him that makes it seem as if the universe itself alters its course for him. You cannot see any way to refuse him since he has already made his decision. Instead, you say the first thing that pops into your head.

"You were going to kill me at one point," you recall.

His eyes shift away, turn a bit more gold, "I was... I was just motherfuckin angry. You two bastards all up and became the palest of friends behind my back. I didn't really motherfucking mean it. I don't think. But when that little red-eyed boy said 'Lucky go see Kurloz soon,' I motherfucking panicked. I just. I can't lose you both."

You look at the rose in your hand, "I'm... I'm gonna go back to sleep."

"...Sure," he responds. "You go ahead and motherfucking do that. I'll be right here."

* * * * *

"Lucky," Jade touches your shoulder. You sigh. Pretending to be asleep never worked when everyone knew you cannot even sleep without Kurloz. You roll over so that you are on your back, looking up into her bright green eyes. She looks upset. Both in the sad kind of way and the slightly angry kind of way. Gamzee is no longer in your field of vision, but you can see Cronus and Dave standing behind her.

"Lucky," she repeats. "We need to talk."

"Leave me alone, Jade," you grumble. "I don't care." Never have truer words come out of your mouth. The entire world around you is bland and depressing. The hospital's blank walls are depressing. The rapidly wilting yellow rose is depressing. The get well cards the Strider kids made for you are depressing. You do not see how any of them can argue that _this_ is better than dying. There is nothing left for you here; you are ready to move on.

"Mister, if you think for one moment that we are going to take you home just for you to do something like this again, you had better have another thought coming!" she snaps. "What were you _thinking_? Don't you realize that as much as you miss Kurloz right now, all of us would miss you if you died too?"

"Don't you _dare_ ," you sit up, suddenly incensed. "Don't you fucking dare to compare those two things. You have no _idea_ how I feel. You have no idea what I've lost. You've never even _had_ a moirail."

"Maybe not, but I _do_ know that you are being an idiot!" she counters. "Everyone has lost somebody important to them. It is just a part of life. You aren't thinking clearly about any of this."

"Look, Lucky," Dave cuts in. "I'm not going to pretend that I have any idea what I would do if something happened to Cronus, but I don't think this is what Kurloz would want you to do. After all, don't you remember what happened to Kurloz's first moirail?" Your heart ices over as he continues, "If Kurloz had killed himself after losing Mituna, the two of you would never have even met."

"I know us trolls talk 'bout quadrants as if they are fated to belong only to one person," picks up Cronus, "but the truth of the matter is, maybe they don't. I dunno how he was with his first palemate, but I _saw_ how he was with you. And I gotta say, he did not look like he regretted a single- oh, shit. No, don't cry! Guys, I can't do the crying thing."

When Jade reaches for you, you lean out of the way. You angrily swipe at your eyes, "No. I know I was a crappy moirail. I wasn't even his first choice. I couldn't even get him to just listen to me. But I never got the chance- I couldn't- I didn't have enough time to prove that I could do better. I- I- I just- I want Kurloz."

The slap to your face surprises you with the sound before the stinging pain becomes apparent.

"You _motherfucker_ ," Gamzee grabs your shirt collar to drag your face towards his. He straddles your lap, effectively pinning you to the bed. His eyes are orange with rage. You do not even know where he was up until this second. "You think that I don't miss my brother, too? Well, guess what- I motherfuckin do. But he's doing just fine in that fuckin place where trolls go when they die- with 'Tuna. And if you think you are such a motherfucking excuse of a moirail, then you should just let _him_ take care of Loz."

"Gamzee!" Jade reaches to pull him off of you, but he snarls and swipes at her with his claws.

"You are pissing me the fuck off!" he turns back towards you. "If you off yourself, do you think that douche is going to welcome you with open arms? After everything he did to motherfucking keep your ass safe? Huh? He died protecting you and Callie! If you ever, _ever_ , motherfucking try to throw away his sacrifice again, I will personally make you motherfucking regret it for the rest of you very, very long life, motherfucker." He shoves you back down into the pillows. Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he is gone. The door slams with enough force to make the windowpanes rattle.

"Christ," sighs Dave. "Someone besides me better go make sure he isn't murdering one of the nurses or something."

"I'll go," Jade offers. You hear the door open and close softly but make no move to sit back up. Instead you stare at the ceiling tiles, tears still streaming down your face. For some reason, everything hurts.

* * * * *

Three days have passed, and you are told that tomorrow you can go back home. It is still confusing to call it that, especially now that Kurloz is gone, but you cannot argue that you feel a sort of relief. Anything to get away from this hollowed out place of misery and sickness. First, however, you have someone that you have to visit. When Jake falls asleep during his watch, you slide out of bed and drop down to the floor as quiet as a cat. Once in the halls, it is relatively easy to maneuver around patients and nurses. Being in the pediatrics ward finally had an advantage- no one really paid you any mind.

You find him lurking on the rooftop. You do not know if he is up here because he knew you would be looking for him or because there are fewer people up here or simply because this is yet another place to keep you away from now. Even though he has not turned around from where he leans over the half-wall, you know that he knows you are there. You hesitate for a moment, and then finally decide to approach him. Even after you are standing on your toes so you can rest your arms on top of the wall, he does not say anything. It looks like he is waiting on you to start.

"'m sorry," you mumble.

Orange eyes glance at you from behind pointed shades, "You really should be telling Jade and Jake that. And little Gamzee, too. You really scared the crap out of everyone."

"I know," you lay your head down on your folded arms. "...Don't be mad at Cronus."

"...So it was him who gave you the idea," he frowns.

"Che," you scoff. "Suicide is hardly a novel idea. And...I've thought about it before. Even tried once."

"Jesus Christ," he exhales softly.

"Ah...don't tell them," you plead. "I...they don't know."

He turns to look at you more clearly, "Not even Gamzee?"

You shake your head, "They thought...it was an accident. Overdose. I just. It is hard to explain. When you are worthless, it just seems-"

"Why would you think you are worthless?" cuts in Dirk, his voice suddenly cold with anger.

"Heh," you grin sardonically, "if you get told something often enough, it is probably true." You look out over the parking lot below and muse aloud, "I had one job in the Felt. Boss bought me to play with Calliope and Caliborn. To keep them entertained." You expression turns bitter, "I couldn't even keep up with them the day I arrived. I was useless- the lowest of the low. Even the trolls ranked above me. I think maybe they realized that. That's why they were always so nice to me. I was the only one who could have it worse than them."

"They took care of you," he notes.

You nod, still staring at the buildings in the distance, "Yeah. Not Kurloz at first. Just Gamzee and Meulin. But then Meulin disappeared. Kurloz started helping Gamzee look after me. They about murdered me themselves when they found out what I had done. But...it was okay for awhile. They really made it bearable. Then after the trial... it got worse for them."

"The Scratch trial?" prods the Strider.

"Uh-huh," you close your eyes. "Doc was... he was weird. He wasn't part of the Crew, but he sort of was. He took care of the trolls... and sometimes me. But when they found out Vriska went on the stand... it got really bad. Trolls testifying. It wouldn't be good for the guys. So some of them started to get pretty violent. More so than usual. And. Fuck.

"It just. It was the first time I could help them instead of the other way around. So I started playing interference. Misdirection when I could, but just plain distractions when I couldn't. I got the shit beaten out of me a lot. But it kept them safe. But then _I_ needed someone to save me."

"That's how you two became moirails."

"Yeah...looking back, I can see why he picked me. I'm kind of pathetic. And he needed someone to take care of. Meulin was his matesprit. He lost two of his quadrantmates to that damn gang. But even though I know... I just- I don't know the right words. Those trolls. They gave me a purpose. As long as they needed me... I wasn't worthless. So without Kurloz...I just- I don't- I don't have that anymore."

"Hey now," he turns you and envelopes you in hug. "That kind of thinking is toxic, little guy. You are not worthless just because you are not risking life and limb for other people. No one is worthless. Except maybe guys on death row, but you don't seem the serial killer type to me."

"Dirk," you grumble, annoyed at his show of affection. "I am a midget with the mental capacity of an eight-year-old. I spent three days practicing this conversation in my head to get my words right. I have no formal education or marketable skills. Besides being Kurloz's regrettably mediocre moirail, I have done nothing useful in my entire life. Please don't patronize me."

"You make the people around you happy," he retorts. "Isn't that enough?" When you reluctantly hug him back, he continues, "We have plenty of time to figure out the other stuff. Now let's get you back inside before Jade murders her cute brother."

When the two of you reach the door to the stairs, he pauses, "Can I ask you one thing?" You nod. "Why me? I mean, why did you choose to tell all of this to me?"

At this you give a weary smile, "Because you are the only one who always took me seriously. You don't patronize me like Dave and Dr. Zahhak and Cronus, or coddle me like Jade and Jake. You...you treat me like a real person."

* * * * *

When you arrive back at the house, you really are not expecting the fanfare that welcomes you. Everyone is here. Dr. Zahhak and his girlfriend, Feferi. The whole Strider clan. And Cans. You have no idea how they found him, but there he is standing awkwardly off to the side, all the same. Gamzee gives you a nudge and you timidly walk into the room. Everyone is looking at you. You feel like you are supposed to be saying something, but you do not know what to say.

"Welcome home, Lucky," Jade prompts. The room fills with greetings. "Welcome home!" "Ell-come home!" "Welcome home, chap!" "Good to see you, Kiddo!"

You stand there, stunned, as little Karkat walks right up to you, "Lucky stay. Keep family. Now, we have cake." He holds out his hand, and you take it purely on reflex. Part of you feels like crying and the other part is stuck in mild bewilderment. You wonder how he could have known. He leads you straight into the kitchen, where there is indeed a massive cake being decorated by a man whom you have not seen before.

"Oh, shoot!" he exclaims, rapidly finishing the frosting flower. "Did I miss big surprise?"

"Late!" Karkat growls, his little brow lowering. "Stupid, dumb motherfu-" You clap a hand over his mouth just in time.

"No more hanging out with Gamzee," your eyebrows feel like they are about to fly right off your face. "Like ever."

"Hey Lucky," Jade materializes behind you. "This is John, who came all the way over from the west coast. Oh, I don't know if I ever told you! I have two brothers." You shake your head and then she continues, "John here was Vriska's moirail, and he would like to talk with you."

"It's nothing bad, I promise," he grins, showing you his empty hands. You had not even realized your expression had quickly become worried. "Jade just thought that maybe it would be a good idea for you to talk to someone...someone who has been in the same kind of position as you are right now. But I also thought we could talk about something else, too. Everyone tells me that you get along really well with trolls- even the ones that aren't so easy to get along with." You nod. "Well, then why don't we sit down and have some cake while we talk it over?"

The cake is awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> white clover means ''think of me fondly'' and represents clover himself while the purple phlox is used to indicate a promise. the full meaning then is that clover made a silent promise that he would be with kurloz soon. 
> 
> so that turned really dark. darker than i was originally plannin. but i go where the story takes me


	16. Epilogue: After the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eighteen months after the events of the main story.

"Braxor, if I have to climb that tree to get you down, I will!" you yell up at the young indigoblood. "It's almost snack time!"

"Coming! I'm coming, Lucky!" he scrambles to comply.

"Lucky, I want his share if he doesn't make it," Emleen tugs on your sleeve, her eyes round with hope.

"Everyone gets the same share," you shake your head. "You know that."

"'ucky, 'ucky, 'ucky!" the little yellowblood rams into you, nearly bowling you over. "'erson 'ere! 'eta wan's you."

You steady the youngest troll on her feet, "Alright, Soolee. I will go see who it is just as soon as all of you settle down for snacks. Come on; we're having muffins and apples today."

"'uffins!" she throws her arms into the air in jubilation. By the time you have everyone sitting around the kiddie tables in an orderly fashion, you are thoroughly worn out. You pass out a muffin and an apple to each one, and ask your co-worker to keep an eye on them. Nepeta nods and waves you towards the front office, already on top of everything. Honestly she could probably run this place without you and one arm tied behind her back.

"Hey, Kid," a familiar voice greets you.

"Dave?" you frown. "Dirk already picked up the kids today."

"I know," he shoves his hands in his pockets. "I came to see how you were doing. It's been awhile."

"I'm-" you suddenly are glomped by another child.

"Lucky! Emleen took my muffin!" whines the greenblood with the little corkscrew horns.

With a chuckle, you hand her another one from the basket, "I'm doing pretty good. I mean, sometimes it's rough when even the little ones are about my size. Jake and Nepeta do a pretty good job of keeping them in line, though." You hear some yelling, followed by a crash, "Mostly, anyway."

Dave shakes his head, "I don't know how you three do it. I can barely manage just Sollux and Karkat sometimes."

"Cronus, too," you add.

He chuckles, "Yeah, he's a handful, too. Probably the biggest one, actually. Yesterday, he actually-"

"Yo, little motherfu- erm, Lucky," a lanky highblood is suddenly there, arm wrapped around Dave's waist like he had been there all along. He has gotten so tall now that soon he will be the same size as the adults. You are only slightly bothered by this fact. After all, you always knew he was going to get bigger. You just were not expecting him to already to be up to Dave's shoulder.

"Gamzee!" you exclaim. "What are you doing here? Your shift starts in like..." You crane to catch sight of the clock, "Ten minutes! Also, get off Dave."

"Calm your ti-toes," he glances down at Indeem swiping another muffin from the basket still in your hands. "Calm your toes. I can make it there in six if I flashstep part the way." You give him a look and he drops his arm and steps away from the blonde, "You are just no fun at all."

You roll your eyes, "You've got three minutes. Three. Use them wisely. No more muffins, Indeem. Why don't you go see if you can convince Nepeta to give you another apple? Or we have some carrots from earlier."

"Awwww, I don't want apples or carrots," she pouts. "I want another muffin."

"You've had two already," you shake your head. "Any more and you won't eat dinner when you go home. Now what would your mom say about that?"

"Fiiiiiiiine," she huffs. "I'll go ask Nepeta." She stalks off, intent on ruining her appetite.

"Cute kid," snorts Gamzee, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"And _that_ is precisely why you had to get a job that doesn't involve working with children," you point out. "Two and a half minutes."

"Aw, come on!" he pouts in a way not unlike the four-sweep-old troll had just a moment ago. "Are you gonna all up and count off the seconds the entire time?"

"Yes, I am, or you will pretend that you don't know how to read time or something," you sigh. "Besides, you have been blacklisted. Nepeta will skin you alive if she finds out you are here again."

"Motherfuckin hissy-cat bitch," he grumbles under his breath.

" _Gamzee_ ," you hiss, wildly glancing around to make sure no little ears are about. "The swearing is what got you in trouble in the first place!"

"Alright, alright," he holds up his hands in defeat. "I'll just walk my happy a- erm, butt? Is butt allowed? Uh, I'm guessing no. I'll just go to work now." He swoops down faster than you can blink and presses his lips against your forehead. Then he is off, laughing raucously as he strides right out the door. You start to lift your hands to gesture before realizing that you are still holding a wicker basket half-full of muffins. Instead, you throw your head back and groan at the ceiling.

"I take it then that the two of you are official?" You wince. You can literally hear the amusement in Dave's normally impassive voice.

You look back at him, "Yeah, I guess so. We never really sat down and talked about it or anything. I don't even know when it happened. Just, one day I realized I was chiding him for forgetting his jacket and..."

"Yeah, that can happen," smirks the Strider. They have their own special kinds of smiles. You recognize this one as fondness. "Sometimes a moirail just kind of shows up out of nowhere and flops right into your life. And sometimes it can take a little while for you to realize that they are your moirail, but it happens all the same."

"...Yeah," you look down at the muffins in your hands.

One of them disappears quite suddenly, "Jade make these for you to bring in?"

"N-no," you can already feel the flush on your face. "Karl made them. U-um, you might remember him as Cans."

You glance up to see him frowning, "The giant guy that makes Dr. Z look like a normal-sized person? I haven't seen him in... well, probably over a year now. Wait, what are... _no_. Don't tell me! You and him?"

"Th-that is none of your business!" you squeak, watching your dignity crumble.

"It is totally my business!" he counters. "If you two are dating, I have to go threaten him with my shi- um, not-good swords. You know, the 'break his heart and we break your face' speech. Actually, I'm surprised Jade hasn't done that yet."

"U-ummm," you start to glance around for an escape.

"You haven't told her yet," realizes Dave. "Lucky! I'm disappointed in you! Do you have any idea how badly she's been wanting to threaten your first love with her guns?"

"That's exactly what I'm worried about!" you exclaim. "Hee, hee, hee! Besides, we aren't even dating! Well, not really, anyway. I mean, we talk a lot now and he made muffins for me to bring in for the kids, but that's really all that-"

"Dude, a trained killer _baked **muffins**_ for you," deadpans Dave. "You two are totally dating. Wait. How old even is this guy?"

"Again, that is none of your business!" you shove a muffin at him. "Here! Now, I have to go back to w-"

"I'm totally calling Jade tonight after you get off work!" he grins. "If you don't tell her by then, I will."

"Th-that's not-"

"Have a great day, Lucky! Thanks for the muffins!"

You stare at the front door as if willing the past five minutes to have been a bizarre dream. Then Emleen is tugging at your sleeve again, "Lucky?"

You sigh, "Yes, you may have one more muffin. Then it's story-time."

Despite the sudden threat of having Karl possibly pumped full of lead, you find yourself looking towards the future optimistically. You have the children to take care of, a family who cares about you, and a moirail that needs to constantly be kept in check. It is amazing how many bonds you have formed in the last year and a half. And you would not trade a single minute for anything in the world. Except maybe the part where you have to tell Jade that you are dating a guy who makes linebackers nervous. That part you would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. clover is working at a troll-only daycare center. the original plan was to have human and troll kids attend together but the crew quickly realized the faults in that plan. mostly the fact that most young children do not have claws or fangs or horns to injure each other with. also the whole growin at different rates thing. it simply became too much of a hazard. so nepeta set up the troll daycare right next door to a human one and they get supervised playtime together. everyone wins.
> 
> so this is the end my dear readers. i had a ton of fun writin this story but now it has come to a close. as much fun as it is to play in the alternate universes other people have created.... my next stories will be set in original aus. if my rail has her way there will be another crack moiraillegence appearin in the next tale.
> 
> anyway. i hope you all enjoyed the ride at least somewhat and if you got emotional over parts of the story.... well that just means that i did my job effectively.


End file.
